Two Halves: Storm of the Dominion
by Mirage159
Summary: Alduin was defeated, but a dangerous enemy still remains in Skyrim. After tragedy struck, Einarr is struggling to get on with his life, but memories haunt him every waking moment and he is let wondering. Was it really just an accident? Was it all planned? The Thalmor presence has grown stronger and action must be taken. Will the Dragonborn fight, or flee?
1. Chapter 1

_Here you have it! Chapter One of Storm of the Dominion!_

_Hope you enjoy this chapter! This is Book Four of my series! **Full Moon, Walk in the Shadows, and Sovngarde Beckons **are the prequels in that order. I know many of you have been anxiously awaiting this and I was too excited to wait to release it!_

_Please remember to **Fave/Follow/Review! **_

_Musical Inspiration for this chapter: Pain by Three Days Grace, Dear Agony by Breaking Benjamin, and Over and Over by Three Days Grace_

* * *

**Chapter One**

**(5th of Morning Star 205 4E)**

_ There was fire everywhere._

_ Einarr found himself standing in the middle of a burning room and struggled to breathe, but the smoke invading his lungs was making it nearly impossible. Taking in his surroundings, he tried to figure out where in Oblivion he was. It was a large bedroom, with a small room to the side that was no more than a wall of fire. It had to be where the fire had started._

_ "Gods, please, no!"_

_ He froze immediately, recognizing the panicked voice right away. She appeared out of thin air, limping toward the door, her auburn hair singed and her face covered with smoke stains and burns. Her pale-blue eyes were wide with fear. It was Lassarina._

_ "Help!" she shouted, reaching the door and banging on it with her fists._

_ "Rina," he breathed, walking over to her, only to be intercepted by a wall of flames that materialized from the floor._

_ "No, no, no!" Einarr watched his sister try to kick the door down, but it was refusing to budge. "Let me out! Please!"_

_ Einarr couldn't stand watching this, but he had no way to get to her. "Lassarina!"_

_ Then came the sound that chilled him to the very core. The sound of a loud crack from above. He looked up at the same time as his sister, just in time to see a large chunk of the roof start to fall toward her._

_ "No!" he roared right before the blazing debris collapsed and buried his sister beneath it._

**oOo**

The feel of the bed jostling jolted Einarr awake and he lifted his head, alarmed. He breath was coming out in short, panicked gasps and his whole body covered in a sheen of sweat. Glancing around the room, he looked around for any signs of fire, but only saw the small one coming from the fire pit, safely contained. The bed shifted once more and he stiffened again, only to relax when he breathed in the familiar scent of Ysolda beside him. He let his head fall back onto the pillow, releasing a heavy sigh and wondering how in Oblivion he had gotten to this point.

_That's obvious, _his conscience told him. _This is you avoiding dealing with your grief._

"Shut up," he muttered tightly, still feeling the fear from his nightmare.

"Hmm?" Ysolda mumbled sleepily, opening her bleary eyes and looking at him. "You say something?"

"Nay, go back to sleep."

She was more than happy to comply, considering that she was still half-asleep, and rolled onto her other side, exposing her bare back to him. Einarr averted his gaze and stared up at the ceiling, his mind swirling with thoughts. He could sense dawn was nearing but would rather hide away in Ysolda's house all day, today of all days. But then Ysolda would want to stay with him, so he resigned to just spend the day at the forge rather than deal with the clingy woman.

He had never intended to involve himself with Ysolda, despite his promise to his deceased Khajiit wife, Faraya; but the events a little two months ago had changed things. His younger sister, Lassarina, had died when the meadery down the road had caught fire. She had been trapped inside, and when the guards found her they said the roof had collapsed on her, breaking her neck on impact. He supposed he should have been thankful that she died quickly rather than having to suffer the agony of burning to death. Even now, whenever he closed his eyes he could still see her broken and charred corpse. Her body had been burned to the point where no one could recognize her-all hair scorched away, the leather of her armor melted into her skin. The only thing that remained intact on her person was the wedding ring that her husband Vilkas had given her the day he proposed to her.

His sister's death had been so unexpected that Einarr didn't know how to deal with the grief. He would spend days on end at the Bannered Mare, drinking away his sorrows and snarling at any of his friends that tried to comfort or stop him. The only person that didn't shy away from his aggressive temper had been Ysolda, who didn't try to stop him but merely offered an alternative. It had become a regular thing for him, spending every night at Ysolda's house once he was sure Kiraya had gone to bed and forgetting all his grief for a while with sex. It was sad that their relationship was just that: sex and nothing more. He had no feelings for Ysolda and didn't imagine that would change any time soon. For now, she was just a convenient way to avoid dealing with his sister's death, and that was enough for him.

But today was different. Today his sister would be on his mind constantly because it was her birthday. She would have been twenty-four and likely spending the day with Vilkas and their children. Knowing his sister's husband, Vilkas would have probably doted on her all day just so her smile would never waver. How would _he_ deal with today?

Ever since Lassarina's death, Vilkas had become a recluse, never leaving their house for anything. Einarr had been avoiding the place where the couple had built a life together, just so he wouldn't have to deal with any fresh pain, but Farkas had begged and pleaded with him to go and talk to Vilkas two weeks ago.

Steeling himself, he had gone to Breezehome and was shocked at the shell of a man Vilkas had become. He had been alone in the house, sitting in front of the fire pit, mead bottle in hand and several empty ones scattered around his feet, simply staring at the fire with dull, lifeless eyes. It made Einarr wonder if that was what he had looked like when Faraya had died.

Farkas had said that after Lassarina had died, Vilkas had become detached from their children. Faolan and Lyanna, having only turned two a couple of weeks before, didn't know what had happened, didn't know that their mother had died. The twins had been inconsolable, starving for their father's attention, but he wouldn't even look at them. Farkas and his wife, Avyanna, were forced to step in and be foster parents to their niece and nephew, despite the fact that they were caring for two children of their own. Einarr honestly couldn't understand why Vilkas, a man who loved his children more than life itself, would neglect them this way.

"I keep seeing her in them," was Vilkas's slurred reply when he asked. "Every time they look at me, every time I look into their eyes, all I see is her. It's a cruel and constant reminder that she's not here anymore, Einarr."

While Einarr thought Vilkas's behavior was wrong, he would be lying if he said he didn't feel pain every time he saw his sister's children. Lyanna was the spitting image of Lassarina when she was a baby; and while Faolan took after his father, he still had his mother's eyes—pale blue irises that were clearer than Skyrim's sky and were just as expressive as Lassarina's had been.

Now restless, Einarr swung his legs out of the bed, shifting the mattress and waking Ysolda.

"You're leaving already?" she yawned.

"Aye," he told her as he pulled on his trousers. "I need to be back at Jorrvaskr before anyone wakes up."

Ysolda's eyes narrowed and she frowned at him. "Why do you have to keep sneaking around? Why can't we just say we're together? We're both adults with no commitment."

"Maybe _you _don't, but I have a thirteen-year-old daughter who I'd rather not involve in this right now."

"This. You keep calling it 'this.' Tell me, Einarr, what is _this _we have?"

Einarr sat on the edge of the bed and raked his fingers through his hair. He had enough to deal with; being in charge of the Companions, grieving his sister, struggling to forget the terrible nightmare he had. He didn't need to deal with Ysolda's bullshit too.

"Ysolda, I'd rather not have this discussion right now."

"Fine!" she shouted, grabbing his tunic off the chair beside the bed and throwing it at his face. "Just get out of here, then!"

"Gladly," he muttered as he pulled it on and left the house. Once he was a safe distance away he growled, "I knew getting involved with her was a bad idea."

He grumbled angrily to himself the entire walk back to Jorrvaskr, cursing himself for getting himself into this situation. But he rationalized that their relationship wasn't serious, and if she wanted something more, then she'd have to start looking elsewhere. He had promised Faraya back in Sovngarde that he'd try and love again, but he didn't love Ysolda, she was just someone who could comfort him when everything started feeling dark.

"Woman is just damned crazy," he told himself skirting around to the back of the mead hall just in case anyone was awake early and already in the common area.

"That generally seems to be the shared opinion among men," chuckled a voice on the porch.

Einarr jumped slightly, but relaxed when he realized who it was. "Julius, you're up rather early."

The Altmer shrugged and took a puff of his pipe. "I sometimes wake up in the middle of the night and come out to see the stars."

Julius Valterayn, a tall Altmer with tanned golden skin, shoulder-length black hair he kept neat and combed, and amber eyes, was the newest member of the Companions, having been recruited only a week before when he appeared at their doorstep requesting to join. Einarr had Aela put in her opinion when they talked to him about why he wanted to join and then had him test his mettle with Athis. The Dunmer had vouched for his fighting skills, and with that, the Altmer became part of the Companions. The presence of the high elf brought a bit of unease to some of the other Companions, mainly Finverior and Vignar, two people who were constantly arguing with one another but shared a common distrust of the Thalmor. But Julius had reassured everyone that the last people he would ally himself with would be the Thalmor, and that was all Einarr needed to know.

"Having trouble with a woman?" Julius asked curiously.

Einarr shifted uncomfortably, not too fond of discussing this issue with their newest whelp. "Aye, but I'm not really in the mood to talk about it, and I'd rather you didn't say anything, Julius."

"I didn't mean to pry, Harbinger; it's just that when you come to be my age, you know a lot about the world and what she has to offer. But I can keep a secret."

"Thank you. And please, call me Einarr. I can't stand being addressed with a title. I'm just a normal man."

"Others would beg to differ, Dragonborn. But I can understand that feeling, so if you wish to be called by your name, then that is how I shall address you."

Einarr rolled his eyes a bit. While it was common knowledge around Skyrim now that he was the Dragonborn and that he defeated Alduin over four months ago with Lassarina, he still hated the attention he received from everyone. Many revered him as if he were some sort of big hero, when in truth he was only looking out for his family when he fought the World-Eater. He wasn't thinking of Skyrim when he thrust his sword through the dragon's skull; he was thinking of his daughter, his sister and her children, his friends in Jorrvaskr who had become like family over time. Being referred to as the Dragonborn now . . . it left a bad taste in his mouth. It made him think of the prophecy that came from an Elder Scroll, how the last Dragonborn would defeat Alduin. When he and Lassarina killed Alduin, they thought the prophecy had merely been misinterpreted, but in reality it just hadn't finished.

Lassarina had died . . . and now Einarr was the last Dragonborn.

**oOo**

Fair skin. Dark auburn hair that framed a delicate, heart-shaped face. Soft, pink lips that begged to be kissed. Pale blue eyes full of love and happiness staring back at him. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, fingernails lightly scratching the nape and sending little rivulets of pleasure through his body. Her warm, sweet scent enveloped him-pine trees and snowberries. To him, she was absolutely perfect.

Vilkas let his hands glide across her smooth skin and gently pressed his lips to hers, enjoying the intimate moment with his wife as long as he possibly could before it was interrupted. Lassarina was melting beneath his touch, moaning softly, music to his ears.

"Vilkas," she breathed his name.

"Lassarina," he whispered back, kissing the sensitive spot on her neck, just below her ear.

"Vilkas!"

Vilkas jolted awake and sat up, immediately regretting it when the stab of pain shot through his brain. He let himself fall back in bed and rested his head on the pillow, instinctively reaching out to Lassarina's side of the bed, seeking out her warmth, only to meet with empty space. He lifted his head slightly and felt his heart break just like it did every morning when he woke up and remembered that his wife was no longer there. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he brought her pillow closer and buried his face in it, inhaling the scent on it.

It was barely there anymore. Lassarina's sweet scent was stale and starting to fade from his life. The warm presence she brought to their home was all but gone and the only reminder that he had that she ever existed was their children and the wedding ring he had salvaged from her charred body the day she died. The ring he now wore on a leather cord around his neck. He lifted the small ring off his chest and stared at it, the pale sapphires sparkling just like her eyes always would.

A loud pounding at his bedroom door snapped him out of his thoughts, and he heard his brother calling his name on the other side. "Vilkas! Open the damned door!"

Growling softly, Vilkas threw the fur blanket off his body and slowly got out of bed, being mindful not to aggravate the pounding headache his hangover was causing. Pulling on his trousers he made his way to the door and unlocked it, opening it enough to see his twin brother's face glaring at him.

"What do you want?" he asked gruffly.

Farkas face contorted into a look of disgust and he waved the air between them with his hand. "Gods damn it, man, you reek of mead and vomit."

"And?"

"Why in Oblivion did you have your door locked? What if the twins needed something?"

"That's precisely why I had the door locked, so they _couldn't _get in." He peered over his brother's shoulder. "Where are they, anyway?"

Farkas shook his head and snorted. "You're a piece of work, you know that?" He forced the door the rest of the way open and stepped inside the bedroom, frowning at the sight of all the mead bottles scattered around the room and the bucket full of bile in the corner of the room. "Probably best they didn't come in after all. Wouldn't want their earliest memories to be of their father acting like a drunken fool."

"Sod off," Vilkas growled, sitting on the edge of the bed. "They haven't seen shit."

"Of course not, because you keep yourself locked in this house while Avyanna and I take care of them. Something _you _should be doing."

"I didn't ask you to take care of them."

"You didn't need to; Anna and I felt like we didn't have a fucking choice. Better they stay with us than be ignored by their father."

"Why are you here, Farkas?"

His brother stared at him for several moments before sighing and holding out an envelope. "A courier came by with a letter for you. He tried delivering it to you personally but you didn't come to the door, so they brought it to me. Came from Dawnstar."

Vilkas looked up and snatched the letter from Farkas's hands, breaking the seal and skimming over the words on the page.

_Vilkas,_

_ My contacts have spotted Mallus slinking around the territories that the Imperial army have claimed. Seems like he's avoiding taking one step into Stormcloak territory (Gee, I wonder why). If you'd like to go through with this, meet me in Rorikstead in a week and we'll start hunting the bastard down._

_ -Daine_

_Finally, _Vilkas thought to himself, rising from the bed and walking over to the chest he kept his armor in.

"What are you doing?" Farkas demanded.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm getting ready to leave."

Farkas grabbed the letter from where Vilkas left it on the bed and read it. "You're hunting down Mallus?"

"He needs to pay for what he did to Lassarina," Vilkas explained, pulling on a tunic before strapping on his chest plate.

"Vilkas, you don't know that Mallus killed her."

"Nay, but I _do _know that she died inside his meadery and he came out virtually unscathed. Lassarina had gone to deal with him for withholding money from Maven; he knew she was coming and must have set the whole thing up."

"You're just making assumptions! For all you know, the fire was an accident!"

"And for all _you_ know, this was all planned! And even if, _if, _the fire was an accident, he still left her in there!"

"You can't just kill a man because Lassarina died in his home! He could be innocent!"

"Don't worry, I plan on talking to him before I slit his throat."

Farkas growled and started to pace. "So you're just going to leave?"

"Aye."

"And what about the twins?"

"I'll come back, if that's what you're worried about. I just need you and Avyanna to look after them while I'm gone."

"We have our own children too, you idiot! Avyanna is stressed enough with Trystane and Kellen without having to worry about Faolan and Lyanna too!"

"Then get someone to help you! Tilma, Rona, even Kiraya!"

"Are you even thinking straight? You can't just forget about your responsibilities and disappear for gods know how long! You need to take care of your children, Vilkas! Do you think Lassarina would be all right with you doing this?"

Vilkas finished putting on his armor and turned to glare at his brother. "When Mercer killed our first child, Lassarina got her vengeance. She was gone for weeks at a time when she needed to deal with Alduin. Now it's my turn to get _my _vengeance."

"And do you remember what Lassarina did after she got her vengeance? She disappeared, for _six months_! Are you going to do the same thing?"

"What would you have me do? Just ignore it and let him get away with it?"

"Aye, that's exactly what you should do!"

"Would you do the same thing if it had been Avyanna? Be honest, if your wife had died like Lassarina had, would you just ignore it and move on?"

"Aye, I would because it wouldn't just be about me! It would also be about our two sons who have no one else to depend on! It's about your twins, who have lost their mother, and all they have left is their father, who they never see because he's too busy drinking himself numb every night!"

"I _need _to do this, Farkas!"

"Why?"

"So I can fucking move on!" Vilkas finally shouted, his voice reverberating off the walls. "If I don't do this, if I don't look this man in the eyes and make him pay for taking Lassarina away from me and the twins, I'll be living with this poison for the rest of my life!"

Farkas stared at him and sighed, but said nothing.

"You have no idea what it's like, Farkas. Waking up every morning and expecting her to be there, only to realize that she's not there and that she's never going to be there ever again. You'll never see her again, you'll never touch her, you'll never hear her because she's dead."

"Vilkas, I understand how you're feeling–"

"Nay, you don't! Your wife is alive! You get to wake up to her every morning instead of an empty bed! Your children don't look at you asking where their mother is! You don't have to dread the day when they notice that they don't have a mother and ask you what happened to her!" He paused and took a deep breath, blinking rapidly to fight back the tears that had been starting to form in his eyes. "You know what breaks my heart the most about this whole situation, Farkas? The fact that Faolan and Lyanna probably won't even remember what Lassarina looked like. The fear that _I_ might one day forget what she looks like."

"Don't think like that, brother."

"I can't help it."

"Lyanna looks exactly like Lassarina. So long as you have her and Faolan, you'll never forget her."

Vilkas pressed the heel of his palm into his eyes and laughed bitterly. "Aye, that's a blessing. I wonder how long before she realizes I can't look at her without thinking of her mother and feel nothing but pain and sadness every time."

"Is that the real reason you've been neglecting them?"

He was silent for several moments. "They have her eyes, Farkas. All I see is her whenever I look at them. I love them to death, but it's just too damned hard being around them and pretending nothing's wrong."

Farkas stared at his brother, still frowning, but his eyes were filled with sympathy. "Vilkas, do you really need to leave them?"

"I need closure. Without it, I don't think I'll ever feel better."

There was silence before Farkas nodded and placed a hand on Vilkas's shoulder. "All right, I'll pretend to understand why you have to do this. But you have to do two things for me. You have to spend some time with your children before you leave and you have to promise that once you've taken care of this, you'll come back right away. Faolan and Lyanna already lost their mother; they don't need to lose their father too."

Vilkas nodded. "Aye, I promise I'll come back."

"Good. Now, let's go back to my house so you can spend some time with your children."

Vilkas nodded and followed Farkas out of the house and over to his. Before they even stepped through the threshold, the sound of the twins laughing reached his ears and he felt guilty from the knowledge that it had been more than a week since he heard that sound. Inside, he saw that Faolan and Lyanna were busy with their cousin Trystane, playing with a pile of wooden blocks. Faolan and Trystane would stack them up neatly and Lyanna would then knock them over, making themselves giggle and laugh at the whole process before starting over again. It brought a smile to his lips, and he just stood there watching until Lyanna noticed him.

"Papa!" she cried out happily, rising onto her feet and running over to him.

Faolan smiled and ran after his sister, both of them hugging his leg and looking up at him with her pale-blue eyes. Vilkas forced himself to ignore the dread that was threatening to wash over him and knelt to pull his children into a hug. He had to stop thinking the way he was and stop punishing his children because they were born with their mother's eyes.

"Papa, where Mama?" Faolan asked, looking at the door expectantly.

"Mama gone long time," Lyanna pointed out.

Vilkas tensed and he heard Farkas suck in a breath beside him. He had no idea how to answer them, but forced himself to say something.

"Mama went to live with your big brother, Kodlak," he answered tightly.

"Where dat?" Faolan wondered.

"Sovngarde."

"We visit?" Lyanna asked innocently.

Vilkas took in a deep breath and felt as if someone was crushing his heart. "Maybe someday."

"Vilkas," Avyanna greeted him icily, coming down from upstairs and holding Kellen in her arms. "This is a surprise. I thought you'd still be locked in the house for a few more days, drinking yourself to death."

He narrowed his eyes and glared at her. Avyanna had made it quite clear that she was angry at how he had been neglecting the twins. He may have been drunk the day she and Farkas came and took them to their house, but he remembered how she had shouted at him through the door and called him every insulting thing she could think of.

"Farkas told me I should come see them before I leave," he explained.

Her hazel eyes widened a bit and she glanced at Farkas before glaring back at Vilkas. "What do you mean, 'leave'?"

"There's something I need to do. I'll be back as soon as I can manage, though."

"So that's it, then? You're just going to abandon your children?"

Farkas frowned and took a step toward his wife. "Anna–"

"I can only imagine how upset and disappointed Lassarina would be if she knew about this. To think she married such a selfish and weak-willed man."

Vilkas rose, his eyes glittering with fury. "Woman, you better hold your tongue before I make you."

"Just leave, Vilkas. They'd be better off without you if this is how you're going to be the rest of your life!"

Vilkas took a step toward Avyanna, but Farkas intercepted him. He was clearly disappointed in what his wife was saying, but he'd still protect her from anyone, even his own brother. Letting out an angry snort, he knelt in front of Faolan and Lyanna.

"I'll be back soon," he promised them softly, giving them a false smile. Standing up, he looked at his brother. "Take care of them."

Farkas nodded. "Aye, I will."

Without another word, Vilkas stepped out of the house, ignoring the twins' disappointed cries. They didn't want him to leave, but he had to deal with Mallus. Accident or murder, he needed to make someone accountable for Lassarina's death and Mallus was the ideal target.

_He'll pay for what he did to you, Lassarina, _he swore silently, pulling the ring out from under his armor and staring it. _You _will _be avenged._

* * *

_Einarr is grief banging and Vilkas is under the belief that revenge will make his grief go away. Sigh... What have I done to them?_

_Interesting fun fact: Einarr was inspired by Dean Winchester from Supernatural._

_Hope you enjoyed the chapter, please **Fave/Follow/Review! **Getting your reviews always makes me smile!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two everyone! Don't you just love me?_

_Hope you enjoy this chapter! This is Book Four of my series! **Full Moon, Walk in the Shadows, and Sovngarde Beckons **are the prequels in that order._

_Please remember to **Fave/Follow/Review! **_

_Musical Inspiration for this chapter: Riot and I Hate Everything About You by Three Days Grace_

* * *

******Chapter Two**

******(9 Sun's Dawn, 4E 205)**

"Rise and shine, Windblade!" shouted a Thalmor soldier as he threw a bucketful of freezing water through the bars.

Thorolf barely reacted, his body only tensing from the cold that enveloped him. After being their prisoner for twenty-seven years, there was little the Thalmor could do to get a rise out of him anymore. Having a bucket of ice-cold water thrown on him bothered him as much a burr snagged on his clothing. Raising his hand to his face, he pushed away some damp strands of his dark-gray hair from his face and turned to look up at the male Altmer leering at him.

"That was your bath for the week," the soldier sneered. "Feel clean enough or would you like another bucket?"

Thorolf didn't answer, choosing to ignore the elf and look down at his own feet. The soldier clearly didn't like being ignored because a moment later another bucket of water was thrown on him. But still Thorolf did nothing. He just sat there, now dripping wet and freezing, but calm and collected.

"Luthon, leave Windblade alone!" shouted a female soldier further down the cell block.

"He's so boring," Luthon complained. "He doesn't react to anything we do to him."

"He's been imprisoned for nearly thirty years. He probably broke a long time ago."

_Or so you think, _Thorolf thought to himself.

Nearly every Thalmor Thorolf ever encountered in his imprisonment thought he was broken, but the truth was he wasn't. They had tortured him for years, desperately trying to get him to reveal any useful information-location of living Blades members and bases, if the Blades were planning to retaliate against them, where his wife and child were. But not once in twenty-seven years had Thorolf talked. He had endured every type of physical and emotional pain all for the sake of protecting the ones he cared about, until they had finally given up and decided to leave him to rot in a cell.

"Why bother keeping him this long, then?" Luthon asked. "If they don't need him anymore, why not just kill him?"

Thorolf had wondered that very same thing many times throughout the years and had only just recently discovered the answer. The Thalmor could still make use of him, possibly as a hostage or political bargaining chip. If what he'd heard the guards whispering about the other day was true, then Thorolf and any other Blades member alive was extremely valuable right now. The dragons had returned.

_I wonder if Esbern is alive, _he thought to himself. _He'd probably go up to everyone who ever doubted him and say, "I told you so!"_

Thorolf would probably be one of the first people Esbern said that to. Years ago, when he had first listened to the mans raving about how one day the dragons would return to Tamriel, he had thought him insane and idiotic. He would make fun of poor Esbern with the other Blades in the dining hall and laugh at imitations they would all do of the doomsayer. It was only when Freyja had stepped in and slapped him across the face that he had stopped disrespecting the older man.

_Freyja . . ._

He missed her every single day that went by. Being apart from his beloved wife so many years had been one of the hardest parts of being imprisoned. Ever since they were children, Freyja had always been there, like an annoying little shadow. All he had ever wanted back then was for her to leave him alone. Ironic that the one thing he wanted more than anything right now was to have her back. But being apart from her wasn't nearly as hard as not even knowing what had become of her.

She had been the one constant thing in many of his torture sessions. Elenwen and other Thalmor who had been assigned to extract information from him had often brought her up to try and break him. First they had threatened him, saying if he didn't give them any useful information they would kill Freyja. He didn't talk. Then they had demanded to know where Freyja was, making Thorolf realize that his family had managed to evade the Thalmor forces and hide once again. He wasn't going to risk their safety, so once again he didn't talk. They had even tried to tempt him, saying that if he surrendered the location of surviving Blades, they'd let him go and allow him to live peacefully with his family.

_They had been desperate by that point, and I still didn't talk, _he thought proudly.

But then came the cruelest form of torture they had ever inflicted upon him. They had stopped talking. For years he had grown accustomed to his interrogators using his wife as a bargaining chip, or demanding to know her location–it's how he knew she was still alive and safe. But when they stopped torturing him and no longer spoke of Freyja, it nearly drove Thorolf insane. He had no way of knowing how she was, whether she was alive or dead, or whether their son Einarr was alive or dead.

Different scenarios played in his head for months on end. Freyja and Einarr had gotten caught by the Thalmor and were imprisoned just like him, forced to go through painful torture every minute of every day. The Thalmor found them and just killed them on sight, a quick death. That was the kindest scenario he could come up with. The cruelest one that played in his mind was that Freyja had moved on with her life. She would have fallen in love with another man, despite the fact that he, her husband, was still very much alive. Einarr would have forgotten him and would have seen this new man as his father. He would have just become a distant memory and a faded face in their minds.

Just thinking of his family brought a pang to his heart. Thorolf wanted nothing more than to know what had become of Freyja and Einarr. It had been three months since Elenwen had him brought back to Skyrim from Alinor, and he hadn't spoken to her since the day he was brought in. But he had seen her. Every two weeks she would come to this Thalmor prison and walk by his cell, pausing briefly to stare at him with that cruel smile on her lips before continuing on her way to the cell at the end of the hall. He knew that whoever was in that cell was extremely important, because Elenwen never wasted her time torturing simple foot soldiers. The cell was also more secure than the one Thorolf or the other prisoners were stuck in. Instead of bars, it was a strong wooden door with a smaller door near the base that was only large enough to shove food and drink through, and it was reinforced with _two _door bars and several locks.

_Elenwen must really want to make sure they never get out_, Thorolf thought, getting to his feet and leaning against the bars so he could look at the reinforced cell.

No one knew who it was that was in there, and the Thalmor soldiers weren't allowed to carry the keys to the cell. Elenwen carried them herself at all times, even though she only spent at most four days out of the month in the prison. She went to the cell every single time she visited, and he would hear the sounds of her torturing the person for hours. The Thalmor bitch would have soldiers bringing her all types of devices to use on the prisoner: whips, knives, hot brands. The only thing Thorolf knew about the prisoner was that they worshiped Talos, since the first time they were tortured, the familiar sight of a Talos brand came past his cell.

He had been branded almost immediately after his capture. Thorolf still remembered the day, and it made him sick every single time. They had him hanging off a beam from his wrists, his feet hovering just inches off the floor. Elenwen had come into his cell with a few soldiers and allowed them to beat him for several agonizing minutes until his whole body had been radiating with pain. Then she held up the brand to her palm, heating it up with a Flame spell until the iron burned white. The feeling of the hot iron connecting with the skin of his back had been seared into his mind, and even today he could still feel the agonizing burn.

Suddenly the door to the torture chamber opened and another Thalmor stepped into the cell block. "Luthon, Nidhes, new prisoner coming in! I'll need some help getting him into the cell."

"Good, maybe this one will be more entertaining than Windblade here," Luthon chuckled as he headed over to the soldier to help.

Thorolf glared at Luthon as he walked away and met the gaze of the Nord woman across the way. She had talked to him on the few occasions where the guards had been out of earshot and they could speak freely. Her name was Assa, a soldier for the Stormcloaks from Windhelm who had gotten captured in an ambush in The Rift about two weeks prior. She looked to be in her early thirties, with pale blonde hair and gray eyes. He could tell she was a pretty thing, despite the mottled bruises on her face, and would be a tough opponent in a fight, judging from fit but still feminine build. She was a joy to talk to whenever they got a chance. She told him about her daughter back in Windhelm and would tear up on occasion, praying to Talos that she got the chance to see her again.

"Poor sod," Thorolf sighed.

Assa frowned. "I wonder if it's someone I know."

Luthon and the other soldier came in, pushing forward a tall Nord man. He was powerfully built and looked to be in his mid-thirties, despite the head full of light-gray hair and matching beard. He looked furious about being in shackles and growled every time one of the soldiers touched him. They placed him in the cell beside Assa's and locked him in before walking off.

"We'll deal with you after we've had something to eat, Gray-Mane," Luthon taunted the new prisoner. "Maybe we'll bring you back of crust of bread."

"You can take that bread and shove it straight up your arse, you Thalmor piece of shit!" Gray-Mane barked aggressively.

Luthon merely laughed and started walking away. "He's going to be fun to torture. Nidhes, are you coming?"

The female soldier at the end of the hall by the secured cell nodded and followed her companions out, glaring at each prisoner as she went. Once they were gone, a universal sigh of relief rose from each prisoner.

"I thought they'd never leave," complained an Argonian named Sinks-in-Dark-Waters.

"Is there any way out of here?" the new prisoner asked.

"Let me put it to you in simple terms," Thorolf rasped. "I've been a prisoner to the Thalmor for twenty-seven years. I've tried to escape before and have never been successful."

"Luthon called you Gray-Mane," Assa commented. "Any chance you're related to Eorland Gray-Mane?"

"Aye, he's my father," he replied. "My name is Thorald."

"How did you end up here?"

"Damned Battle-Borns, they convinced the Thalmor that my family had ties to the Stormcloaks and aided them in my capture."

"Do you think anyone will come looking for you?"

Thorald sighed and leaned heavily against the bars. "I'm not sure. My brother will suspect something happened and my mother won't be convinced I'm dead unless she sees my body herself. So . . . I'm not sure. Maybe help will come. My family might ask the Harbinger of the Companions to investigate my disappearance–they're close friends, but he's been in mourning since his sister died."

"Aye, I heard about that," Assa suddenly gasped. "She died in a fire. Jarl Ulfric was devastated to hear the news."

"The whole meadery went up in flames. Her body was burned past the point of recognition. I attended the funeral with my father. Her husband didn't bother to show up, and I've never seen Einarr look so grief-stricken."

Thorolf looked at Thorald in shock. "What was his name?"

The younger Nord arched a brow at him. "Einarr. Why do you ask?"

Thorolf was probably clutching at straws, Einarr was a common name after all, but he had to ask. "How old is this Einarr?"

"Thirty-five, I think."

"Do you know his birthday?"

Thorald nodded, a frown on his face. "Aye, and nearly everyone in Skyrim probably knows it too, since that's the day his sister died. Thirtieth of Frostfall."

Thorolf covered his mouth with his hand and struggled to keep his shaking legs steady. The relief he felt at that moment . . . he could cry. He knew that this Einarr was his son. That's when he processed the other thing Thorald and Assa were speaking of. Einarr's sister had died. Had Freyja moved on and had a child with another man? Or was the woman who had died his daughter? He was almost afraid to ask, but he needed to. Unfortunately, he was interrupted by the mystery prisoner banging angrily on her cell door.

"What in Oblivion?" Thorald muttered, staring at the cell through the bars.

"Ignore it," Sinks-in-Dark-Waters advised him. "They do that every time the guards leave."

"Who's in there?"

"We don't know and the guards aren't allowed to talk about it," Assa answered him. "The only one allowed inside the cell is Elenwen, and she'll stay in there for hours torturing the poor soul."

The prisoner slammed against the door again and Thorolf sighed. They were only injuring themselves. There was no way they were getting out.

"Enough!" Thorolf commanded. "You're only using up what little strength you have. I've seen how much you're given to eat. You're better off saving your energy to withstand Elenwen's torture when she comes around."

As usual, there was no reply. Not only was the prisoner a mystery, they were also silent.

"Doesn't he or she ever speak?" Thorald asked curiously.

"That person arrived maybe a day after me," Thorolf explained. "That was three months ago. Haven't heard a peep come from that cell, even when Elenwen is torturing them. Doesn't even scream."

Thorald frowned and turned to the cell again. "Can you hear us? Hit the door once for aye, twice for nay."

"We've tried that before," Assa said. "They never rep-"

There was a single knock.

Everyone in the cell block was silent from shock.

"Why does that person only reply to you?" Sinks-in-Dark-Waters demanded.

"I don't know," Thorald shrugged.

"Maybe they know you," Assa suggested. "Ask them."

"Do I know you?"

One knock. Yes.

"Have we ever spoken?"

One knock again. Yes.

"It's be nice to know if they were a man or woman," Thorolf put in gruffly.

Thorald nodded. "Are you a man?"

Two knocks. No. So their mystery prisoner at least had a gender now.

"Can you figure out who she is?" Assa asked.

"Aye, cause I haven't met a woman before," Thorald replied sarcastically. "How in Oblivion am I supposed to know who she is?"

Suddenly the torture room door opened and they all fell silent. Thorolf looked over and saw Elenwen stepping into the cell block, a seedy looking Imperial behind her.

"I need security!" the Imperial told Elenwen, his voice panicked. "I have someone hunting me down!"

"I owe you nothing, Maccius," Elenwen replied in her irritating high-born accent.

"I did what you asked of me damn it! I deserve some compensation!"

"I let you walk away with your life. _That _was your compensation for your services. You should be thankful I gave you that much, with how badly you messed up the simple task."

"And I apologized for that!"

"Whatever happens to you from this point on is none of my concern. If you're that concerned for your life, hire a mercenary to guard you. Now leave; I need to see to my prisoners."

A soldier appeared and started to yank the Imperial named Maccius away. Once out of sight, Elenwen stepped into the cell block and slowly made her way down, smiling cruelly at each prisoner she passed. When she came to Thorolf's cell, she paused and looked at him. Normally, Thorolf glared at the woman, but today he smirked at her, something that set her off edge and arch a delicate brow.

"You seemed pleased with yourself today, Thorolf," she murmured. "May I ask why?"

Thorolf was debating on whether or not to answer her. Part of him wanted to rub it in her face that he now knew one vital piece of information she had been purposely withholding from him, but that would be too easy. He wanted her to be driven mad, to get angry, and the best way to do that was to leave her wondering.

"That's for me to know and you to find out, Elenwen," he replied smugly.

Elenwen's cruel and confident facade faltered for a brief second and she glanced over her shoulder at Thorald Gray-Mane, who had let out a snort of amusement from the smug look on Thorolf's face.

"Now, now, Thorolf, do I need to cut into you to get you to talk?" she asked, her voice taking on a sickeningly sweet tone.

"You can kill me for all I care," he chuckled. "I could die happy knowing what I know now."

"As if he would talk to some Thalmor bitch," Thorald Gray-Mane added.

Elenwen stiffened a bit and turned to the torture room. "Angon. Could you please give Thorald Gray-Mane the standard welcome to my prison?"

The Thalmor interrogator appeared at the doorway with his assistant, the torturer, by his side. "Of course, Lady Elenwen."

Both Altmer walked over to Thorald's cell and began to handle him roughly, punching him and yanking on his shackles as they moved him toward the torture room, Thorald struggling and fighting back the entire way.

"Make sure you break him," Elenwen added. "Physically and spiritually."

They disappeared into the adjoining room, and Thorolf glared daggers at the woman in front of him.

"I require some help moving a prisoner as well," Elenwen called out, staring into Thorolf's brown eyes as she said it.

Two soldiers came to Elenwen's side, and for a moment, Thorolf thought she would tell them to take him to the torture room, but she surprised him when she handed them a certain set of keys and pointed to the secured cell. Both soldiers froze for a moment, looking at Elenwen with apprehension in their eyes before nodding and walking over to the cell. Thorolf didn't take his eyes off the bitch in front of him, and she didn't look away, either. The cell door down the hall opened and he could hear the sounds of the soldiers struggling with the prisoner, as well as the sounds of muffled screams.

"Take her to the torture room," Elenwen commanded.

The prisoner grunted in pain, and the sound of a punch echoed through the cell block. Then came the sound of a body and chains being dragged along the cold floor. Elenwen smiled cruelly at Thorolf one last time before she looked away and stared at the prisoner. Thorolf allowed himself to look away at that moment, seeing the mysterious prisoner come into view and seeing her for the first time. His whole body tensed and he looked back at Elenwen, seeing the shadows of pure evil in her golden eyes.

"You bitch!"

**oOo**

Vilkas sat at the corner table of the Silver-Blood Inn, drinking from his third tankard of mead. He knew he should have stopped after the first and been done with it, but Markarth held too many memories for him that he couldn't get out of his head. This was the city where he did his first job with Lassarina and managed to spend a pleasant evening with her before they had to flee from her adoptive father and brother. She had been terrified that the man had wanted revenge for her accidentally murdering his eldest son during a rape attempt, and she had been right. They had been followed and Vilkas had fought the hired muscle off, turning into a werewolf to do it quickly, while Lassarina had run to safety; but he hadn't realized that her adoptive father had gone after her.

He had heard her scream before he reached her and found Lassarina with a dagger buried in her gut and her adoptive father's hands around the handle. Vilkas saw red at that moment and ripped the Imperial man apart before going to the woman he loved and realizing she would bleed out if he didn't do what was necessary. To save her life, he had given her the beast blood and their bond formed that night. Despite her being in a relationship with Farkas at the time, the bond had helped her realize she had romantic feelings for Vilkas, and they had come together a few weeks later.

It had been after they had cured the senior Kodlak of the beast blood. Lassarina and Farkas had ended their relationship, Vilkas had drunk a bit too much, as did she, they snuck out through the Underforge and ran across the plains of Whiterun in their werewolf forms for the first and last time. When they had returned to the Underforge near dawn, they had been lying on the ground, recovering from the pain of reverting back to human form, and Vilkas had made the first move, making love to her right then and there. He was sure that was the night they had conceived their first child.

_We made Kodlak that night,_ he thought, losing himself to the memory of the first time he had lain with her. _But losing our son can't compare to the pain of losing her. _

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Vilkas chugged down the rest of his mead and slammed the tankard down on the table, coughing madly when a bit slithered down his windpipe unintentionally.

"Easy there," Daine said as she patted his back. "Maybe you shouldn't chug down your mead like that."

Vilkas shrugged the Imperial woman's hand away and hunched over the table, calming down from his coughing fit and staring into his now-empty tankard. "I'm fine."

Daine tucked a strand of her honey-blonde hair behind an ear and rolled her amber eyes. "Yes, I'm sure you are. Because three meads in less than an hour is a clear sign that you're fine."

"Are you going to nag at me now?"

"Nag at you? Please, I'm not your mother or your wi–er, caretaker."

Vilkas tensed at her near-slip and contemplated another mead.

"Look, Vilkas, normally I wouldn't give a shit how much you drink. If it was me, I'd more than likely be two meads ahead of you. But we need to keep focused in case he shows up."

"We've been staying here for almost a week now and have been sitting at this table every single night. We've been at this a month and have no results. You told me we'd find him, Daine."

"And we will; you just have to be patient. Mallus is paranoid and jumpy, so he never stays in one place for too long."

"What makes you thinks he'd even come here? Markarth is still being held by the Stormcloaks too. If he did leave Lassarina to die, the last place Mallus would come to is Stormcloak territory."

Daine didn't reply. Instead she had her gaze fixed firmly to the inn's entrance. Vilkas turned to look at what had her so fixated and his eyes widened when he recognized him. The man he had been hunting for the past month, Mallus Maccius, had just walked in.

"Ye of such little faith," Daine chided him gently.

Vilkas growled and stood, only to be yanked back down into his chair by Daine.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm going to kill the bastard," he told her.

"In the middle of this inn? Not to mention he probably knows your face." She tugged on the hood of his cloak so it shadowed his face. "There, keep that on. I'll go to Mallus and see if I can get him out of here so we can take him somewhere a little more private."

"Doesn't he know your face too?"

Daine nodded. "Yes, he does, but he also knows that I work closely with Maven Black-Briar. I'll just lie and make him think she sent me to help him out."

"Will he believe you?"

"I'd like to think he will. When you kill people for a living, you learn to be a good liar and very convincing."

Without another word, Daine got up and walked over to where Mallus was sitting at the bar. The man was clearly surprised to see the Dark Brotherhood assassin, but he visibly relaxed when she whispered something in his ear. For about ten minutes, Vilkas watched them talk to one another, at one point arguing, but finally Mallus nodded to something Daine said and headed toward the inn doors. The blonde assassin followed him and paused at the door to look at Vilkas, jerking her head slightly. That was his cue to follow, so he waited thirty seconds before getting up and following them out of the inn.

Outside, Vilkas stayed a fair distance away from them as he trailed them. Daine and Mallus were just passing an abandoned house when she covered his mouth with her hand and shoved him against the wall beside the door. The Imperial man struggled to get away from her, but Vilkas closed the distance quickly and replaced her in restraining Mallus so she could pick the lock. Once the door was open, Vilkas shoved Mallus inside and the man fell to the floor.

"I knew this had to be a trap!" Mallus shouted, rising to his feet and glaring at Daine. "Maven refused to help me when I first came to her. Cold-hearted bitch never changes her mind! Did she send you to finish me off? Or did the others send you?"

Daine drew her daggers out of their sheathes and advanced on Mallus. "No one sent me, I came voluntarily."

"Why?"

"I think I'll be the one asking the questions, Mallus. Actually, my friend here will. See, he's extremely angry with you."

Mallus turned to Vilkas. "And who the fuck is this?"

Vilkas realized that he still had his hood on and quickly took it off, glaring at Mallus with hate-filled eyes.

The Imperial recognized him at once and panicked. "Shit, please, don't kill me!"

"Did my wife ask the same of you when you left her to die inside your meadery?" Vilkas asked, his voice quiet but icy.

"I didn't kill your wife! It was an accident!"

"So the meadery just _happened _to catch fire at the exact time Lassarina was going over to deal with you for stealing from Maven?"

"That's right! It was all just a terrible–"

Vilkas cut him off by grabbing him by the throat and throwing him against the wall. "Don't you dare fucking stand there and lie to me!" he snarled as Mallus crumpled to the floor.

"I'd start talking, Maccius," Daine advised. "I've been giving Vilkas tips on how to torture information out of people."

Mallus sat up and stared up at Vilkas with tears forming in his eyes. "I didn't want any of that to happen."

"Then why did you allow it?" Vilkas roared. "Why did you start the fire? Why did you leave her to die?"

He advanced on the terrified Imperial and knelt in front of him, grabbing him by the collar and punching his jaw. "Answer me!"

"I didn't have any choice!" Mallus sobbed. "It was either me or her!"

"You're garbage! You trapped Lassarina in there! You let her burn to death! You robbed my children of their mother!" Vilkas punched again. "Do you have any idea what it's like to look at your children and have to tell them that they'll never see their mother again?"

"I'm sorry!"

"Sorry isn't going to bring my wife back to life!"

Blood flowed from Mallus's now broken nose and tears streaked his face. "I didn't have a choice. It was either me or her . . ."

Vilkas released his collar and grabbed the man by the throat once more. "She was never going to kill you, you fucking idiot! She was just going to get Maven's money and leave! You killed my wife over a bag of septims!"

Vilkas's hands were tightening around his neck and Mallus struggled weakly to get free. "Please, don't kill me! You don't understand! They didn't give me any choice!"

Daine stood behind him and glared down at Mallus. "_They _didn't give you a choice? Who are _they_?"

"They ordered me to do it," Mallus told them, his voice strangled. "They said if I didn't, they would kill me."

"Who are they?" Vilkas asked, tightening his hands even more.

"T-the, gah! The Th-thalmor!"

Vilkas's whole body went stiff and all he saw was red. The room was suddenly void of all sound except for the drowning roar in his head. He forgot how to breathe. His mind couldn't process this new information. The Thalmor? The Thalmor were the ones who ordered Lassarina's death?

"Vilkas!" Daine screamed in his ear.

Vilkas's vision cleared and he stared blankly at Daine. "What?"

"Vilkas, you killed him!"

He turned to look at Mallus and saw the light had left the Imperial man's eyes. His hands were still clenched tightly around his neck, and Vilkas realized that he had crushed his windpipe, killing him almost instantly. He released him and Mallus fell to the ground.

"Damn it, Vilkas, we could have gotten more information out of him!" Daine shouted. "Now we'll never know why the Thalmor ordered this!"

"It doesn't make sense," Vilkas murmured, his voice monotone and his eyes void of any emotion. "The Thalmor wanted Lassarina alive."

"Well, I guess they changed their minds. And because of you, we'll never know why! Honestly, Lassarina always boasted about how smart you were in her letters, but you're actually a bigger idiot than our dearly departed friend here."

Vilkas looked at Mallus. "Aye . . . he's dead. He did leave her for dead. I was right."

"Yes, you were. How do you feel now that you killed Lassarina's murderer?"

Vilkas stared at Mallus for several moments, trying to process everything he was feeling at that moment. His realization just made him angry.

"I don't feel any differently," he growled. "I'm still in pain, not having her here. I'm also angry because the pain is still there. I thought that killing Mallus would make it go away."

Daine sighed and knelt beside him. "Yeah, I figured it wouldn't."

"If you knew that killing him wouldn't change anything, why didn't you try and talk me out of it?"

"Because it wouldn't have changed your mind. And I wanted him dead too. Lassarina was my friend, and this bastard deserved it for leaving her to die." She rose to her feet and patted his shoulder. "Come on, big guy. Time for you to go home to your kids. They probably miss their papa. I know I miss Tannis."

Vilkas rose from the ground. "What about Mallus?"

Daine scoffed. "Leave him to rot. The house is abandoned anyway. I'm sure the guards will come around once people start to notice the smell."

He nodded numbly and left the house with her. Mallus was dead, but he now felt lost. Killing him was what had been driving him forward ,and now that he didn't have that, he didn't know what to do. He supposed he could return to Whiterun and raise Faolan and Lyanna all alone, without Lassarina, but the very idea just brought on more heartache. She should be there to watch the twins grow up. Mallus and the Thalmor prevented that from ever happening.

That's when he thought of something else he could do, feeling his body fueled by rage from thinking of the Thalmor.

_Ulfric needs to know, _he thought silently to himself. _It's past time that the Thalmor were ejected from Skyrim._

* * *

_Alright, so opinions people? Who do you all think the mystery prisoner is?_

_Hope you enjoyed the chapter, please **Fave/Follow/Review! **Getting your reviews always makes me smile!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Enjoying the quick updates? I'll bet you are. Those of that have made guesses are going to find out whether you were right or wrong with this chapter!_

_Hope you enjoy this chapter! This is Book Four of my series! **Full Moon, Walk in the Shadows, and Sovngarde Beckons **are the prequels in that order._

_Please remember to **Fave/Follow/Review! **_

_Musical Inspiration for this chapter: Killing in the name of by Rage Against the Machine, Toxicity by System of the Down_

* * *

******Chapter Three**

******(15********th******** of the First Seed, 4E 205)**

"Papa, you need to come quick!"

Einarr looked up from his desk at the sound of his daughter's breathless voice and immediately stiffened. He had been going over Jorrvaskr's books and checking the expenses and how much gold had been coming in, a task that usually fell to Vilkas, but the damned fool was drunk most of the time and could barely add two and two together. The task was extremely tedious for him, so Einarr was glad to welcome any distraction.

"What's wrong, Kiraya?" he asked her, getting up from his chair and walking out of the room, motioning her to lead the way.

"The Battle-Borns are harassing Fralia in the market!" Kiraya hissed angrily. "Rohan's with her. We told them to leave her alone, but they didn't listen."

Growling angrily, Einarr walked a bit faster out of Jorrvaskr to aid Eorland's wife. The poor woman was already grief-stricken from the sudden disappearance of her son, Thorald, over a month ago without having to be constantly harassed by the Battle-Borns. Einarr had felt as badly about Thorald's disappearance as his family did, since he had come to be good friends with Clan Gray-Mane in the years he'd lived in Whiterun. He would gladly stand beside them in any situation after all the kindness Eorland and his family had expressed toward him and his family.

As he reached the market with Kiraya, Einarr saw that the argument had already drawn quite a crowd, merchants and civilians alike gawking at Fralia and the two Battle-Borns, Olfrid and Idolaf. Kiraya's friend and Avyanna's younger brother, Rohan, stood beside the elderly woman and was glaring at the two men.

"Your son chose his side, and he chose poorly," Idolaf spat at Fralia. "And now he's gone. Such is the way of war. The sooner you accept his loss, the better."

"I will never accept his death!" Fralia cried out. "My son still lives. I feel it in my heart. So tell me, Battle-Borns, where is he? Where are you holding my Thorald?"

Einarr frowned and felt his heart go out to poor Fralia. She wanted nothing more to believe that her son was alive, much like he wished that Lassarina was still alive. But it had been over a month now, and while they had hired some men to go out and search for him, no one came back with any information.

"Do you believe this old hag?" Olfrid snorted. "'Holding him?' Why, I've got him in my cellar. He's my prisoner." His voice had been dripping with sarcasm and Einarr was not amused. "Face it, cow! Your stupid son is dead! He died a Stormcloak traitor! And you . . . you best keep your mouth shut before you suffer the same!"

"That's enough," Einarr growled, finally stepping forward and standing beside Fralia.

"Well, look who's here. The mighty Dragonborn come to save his allies, the Gray-Manes. How touching."

"This isn't the first time I've caught wind of you harassing the Gray-Manes in the past month, Battle-Born. Isn't it enough that Thorald is missing? You have to constantly torment poor Fralia about it?"

"Her son isn't missing; he's dead!"

"He's not dead, I tell you!" Fralia shouted, tears forming in her eyes.

"Come on, father," Idolaf said, grabbing Olfrid by the shoulder. "Let's just leave. There's nothing more to be said here. Gods forbid we upset the Dragonborn."

The two men walked away from the market, the crowd parting to let them through, and then all eyes were on Fralia and Einarr. He glared at all the gawking eyes.

"Haven't you anything better to do?" Einarr demanded. "Go about you own damned business!"

Everyone either jumped, winced, or flinched at Einarr's harsh tone and promptly dispersed. Looking down at Fralia, he saw the poor woman looked heartbroken and knew he had to do something about this soon, or something bad would happen. Olfrid's subtle threat bugged him a little too much.

"Kiraya, Rohan, could you walk Fralia back to her house?" he asked the two teenagers.

"Aye," they answered together.

"Come on, Fralia," Kiraya urged the elderly woman, taking her hand in her own. "Don't let those ice-brained Battle-Borns get to you. I'm sure Thorald is all right."

As they led Fralia away, Einarr went to her merchant stand and took the keys off the counter, locking it up for the day. He was about to go and catch up with Kiraya when he noticed Jon Battle-Born leaning against one of the wooden pillars in front of Belethor's, frowning and shifting nervously. Jon was probably the only member of Clan Battle-Born that didn't annoy Einarr, what with his polite and kind attitude, so seeing him that nervous was disconcerting.

"Jon," he called out. "Are you all right?"

Jon sighed and walked over to Einarr. "I'm sorry about my father and brother."

"You don't need to apologize for them. If anything, they're the ones who should apologize for their behavior."

"This feud between our clans . . . it's gone too far."

Einarr could see the worry and fear in Jon's eyes and sighed. "Does your family know where Thorald is?"

Jon looked at him for several moments before his face crumpled and he pulled a sheet paper out of his pocket, placing it into Einarr's hand. "I made a copy of the one I found on Idolaf's desk, but they match word for word."

Einarr unfolded the letter and skimmed it over:

_It has come to my attention that inquiries have been made as to the whereabouts of one Thorald Gray-Mane. It is my duty to inform you that Thalmor agents have taken possession of the prisoner and have escorted him to Northwatch Keep. I don't think I need to elaborate. It is in everyone's best interest if the matter is dropped entirely. I trust there will be no further inquiries as to this matter._

_ - Gen. Tullius_

Einarr glared at Jon, fighting the urge to crush the letter in his hand. "Were you the one who made the inquiries?"

"Nay, believe it or not, my brother did," Jon answered.

"Idolaf? The same man who stood there and helped your father harass Fralia?"

"Our clans were once friends, Einarr. Idolaf and Thorald were practically raised together; he was worried about him. When I found the missive and realized we were withholding this information, I decided enough was enough. I can't let this incident jeopardize my future."

Einarr couldn't resist a smirk. "So you see a future with Olfina then?"

Jon looked at him in shock. "H-how did you know?"

"Jon, you stand in the same spot nearly every single day just to watch her. On a good day, you two have the opportunity to talk. Damn it, man, if you love her, just tell her and stop being a damned fool." Shoving the copy of the missive in his pocket, he started walking away. "Life's too short to wait."

Einarr rushed toward the Gray-Mane household and let himself inside, finding Kiraya and Rohan sitting at the bench around the fire pit while Fralia stood over a pot, stirring something. The door of a nearby room swung open and Avulstein stepped out, axe in hand and an alarmed look on his face, which quickly eased when he saw Einarr.

"You can't be so paranoid, Avulstein," he told the man.

"How can I not be?" he scoffed. "My brother is missing and the people responsible live a moment away."

"The Battle-Borns aren't all bad," Einarr said cautiously, pulling the missive copy out of his pocket. "Jon Battle-Born gave this to me, a copy of the letter his brother Idolaf received."

Avulstein arched a brow and read it quickly, crushing it in his hand once he was done. "Gods damn it!"

"Avulstein, what is it?" Fralia asked.

"Thorald _is _alive. He's being kept in a Thalmor prison!"

Fralia's hands covered her mouth in shock. "Oh, my poor boy!"

"Don't worry, mother, I'll find him and bring him back."

"Avulstein, I don't think that's a good idea," Einarr told him quietly.

"And why not?"

"Fralia is already mad with worry over your brother; does she really need the added stress of wondering if her other son is safe?"

"So I'm to just let my brother rot in a Thalmor prison?"

"Nay, I never said that. But I don't think you yourself should go. I'll go instead. I have a score to settle with the Thalmor."

Einarr was furious with the Thalmor after Vilkas returned a month ago with the news that they had forced Mallus Maccius to start the fire in the meadery and trap her inside. It had been bad enough when he thought she had just died, but knowing she had been murdered sent Einarr into a blood rage. That night the plains outside of Whiterun were littered with animal carcasses, shredded into bloody pulps by some unknown beast.

Avulstein shot him a look of disbelief. "You're going to break into a Thalmor prison and break my brother out without knowing how many soldiers are inside? That's suicide, even for the Dragonborn."

"I never said I was going alone," Einarr replied. "I'll bring someone else with me. Someone who hates the Thalmor more than I do."

**oOo**

"Vilkas!" Einarr shouted, pounding his fist against the front door. "Open the door!"

He had been knocking on the hard wood for the past few minutes, starting to regret that he hadn't kept a copy of Breezehome's key for himself. He was contemplating kicking in the door when he heard the familiar click of the door unlocking. Grabbing onto the handle, he yanked the door open and found Faolan on his hands and knees with Lyanna standing on his back, the house key in her hand.

"Uncle Einarr!" Lyanna cried out happily.

Einarr smiled at his niece and scooped her up. "Hey there, you little ankle biter. Does your papa know you can open the front door now?"

"Papa sleeping," Faolan informed him, standing up.

Einarr had to resist the urge to growl. It was past midday, and not only was he more than likely sleeping off his hangover, he was letting his two-year-old children wander around the house without supervision. Setting Lyanna down next to her brother, Einarr closed the door and looked around the first floor of the house. It was a mess, the twins' toys and Vilkas's empty bottles scattered all over the place.

"Have you two eaten?" Einarr asked the twins.

"Aye," they answered together.

"Apples!" Lyanna informed him cheerfully.

"Still hungry," Faolan pouted.

Sighing, Einarr walked over to the cupboard and spotted a jar full of venison jerky. He pulled out a few strips and handed them to the twins, deciding it would have to do until he could get Tilma or Avyanna to see to them.

_Tilma would be better, though, _he thought to himself. _Farkas mentioned that Kellen was sick. Wouldn't want the twins to catch it._

"I'm just going to wake your papa, okay?" he told them gently, ruffling their hair.

The twins nodded, their mouths full of jerky, and Einarr headed upstairs to the master bedroom. He wasn't surprised to find it locked, but this time he wasn't going to be polite and knock. Taking a deep breath, Einarr kicked open the door, startling Vilkas.

"What the fuck?" he groaned, sitting up in the large bed, his hand still clutching the pillow on the left side.

_Lassarina's pillow, _he thought sadly.

"Get your drunken ass out of bed," Einarr ordered him, grabbing a shirt off the floor and throwing it at his face.

Vilkas pressed the heel of his palm into his eyes. "What time is it?"

"It's past noon. Did you know that the twins could open the front door now?"

"They can?" he asked, squinting at him with bleary eyes.

"Aye. Now tell me, what would have happened if they decided to walk out the front door? The waterways are all over the city; what if they had fallen in?"

"They know they aren't allowed outside alone."

"Ah, but they're allowed to wander around a house full of weapons without any supervision? If you're going to be an irresponsible father, you should at least let Fang back into the house since the damned wolf can do a better job watching the twins right now."

"I don't need parental advice from a man who left his daughter with her grandfather for seven years while he wandered across Tamriel."

"Looking for my sister! Your wife!"

"My dead wife. Your dead sister. Doesn't matter anymore. She's gone because of the Thalmor and the only one who can do anything about it is sitting on his ass in Windhelm."

"Really? Because we can do something about it now. Even if it isn't the large-scale plan you wanted."

Vilkas looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Eorland's son Thorald is being held prisoner in some place called Northwatch Keep. It's a Thalmor prison. I thought you'd might enjoy going with me and killing every Dominion soldier inside."

Einarr knew that he had him the moment he saw Vilkas's eyes light up with a dangerous fire.

"When do we leave?"

**oOo**

When they arrived at the Thalmor prison four days later, Vilkas's body was containing a violent storm that would be unleashed on the first soldier he saw. He had left the twins under the care of Tilma, who offered to stay at Breezehome and tidy up, something Vilkas greatly appreciated since he couldn't be bothered with cleaning. The trip there had been extremely quiet, Einarr refusing to speak with him the majority of the time due to his behavior. But Vilkas was angry at his brother-in-law too, since he had gone through his pack the first night they camped and destroyed every bottle of mead he had brought with him.

"You need to stop drowning yourself in alcohol!" Einarr had shouted on him. "Do you drink this much in front of the twins?"

"I drink in the privacy of my own room, thank you very much!" Vilkas had retorted.

"You need to get your shit together, you enormous ass. I only pray that this doesn't rub off on Faolan or Lyanna. I don't want my niece and nephew to turn out like their father."

Any other insults that Einarr could have come up with were lost the moment Vilkas's fist connected with his face. They tired themselves out with their fight, but it did manage to help get a lot of anger and aggression toward each other out of their systems. Still, he could have done without the bruised ribs and the black eye.

"All right, it looks like this place is heavily guarded," Vilkas murmured, scanning the battlements. "I can see at least three soldiers patrolling the top of the wall. But there can be more on the ground, not to mention gods know how many inside."

Einarr scanned the keep with his pale-blue eyes. Vilkas tried not to frown at how his eyes were identical to Lassarina's, but it was too damned hard.

"_Laas_," Einarr whispered.

Vilkas felt a shiver go down his spine at the sound of the Shout and waited for Einarr to tell him what he saw.

"Three more on the ground," he reported. "I also see at least fifteen people inside. I can't tell which ones are prisoners, though."

"We'll find out soon enough," Vilkas shrugged, grabbing the dragonbone bow off his back.

It was Lassarina's bow. Einarr had mounted it on the wall in Jorrvaskr, beside Wuuthrad and his broken dragonbone greatsword that had dealt the final blow to Alduin, but Vilkas had taken it back a month ago when he decided that he'd kill any Thalmor he ever came across with it. Nocking an arrow, Vilkas advanced forward quickly, taking cover behind a large boulder before peeking out and firing at one of the soldiers on the wall. The second he went down, another soldier shouted an alarm and chaos erupted.

He and Einarr fought blindly through the soldiers, striking them down with an anger and ferocity that would likely frighten anyone who saw. But they were both too enraged with these people to show them any mercy. They hacked and slashed away at the Thalmor, their blades cutting through their pristine elven armor as easily as butter. By the time they were done, both of them were covered in the blood that sprayed from their victims, even more blood staining the snow at their feet. Vilkas was breathing heavily and didn't bother to wipe his face clean like Einarr did. It was fitting warpaint–the blood of his enemies.

They showed even less mercy to the Thalmor inside the keep. Vilkas was in the middle of a berserk blood rage and nothing was snapping him out of it. He was getting wounded, but he barely felt it. His body was immune to the pain ,and all he cared about was seeing the suffering and panic in the Thalmor's eyes. By the time he and Einarr reached the torture room and took out the interrogator, Vilkas was unrecognizable from all the blood that covered him.

"Vilkas," Einarr's voice broke through, sounding wary. "Vilkas, are you all right?"

Vilkas blinked and took a deep breath, wiping his blade clean on the interrogator's robes. "Aye . . . I'm fine."

"Are you hurt anywhere? I can't tell with all the blood."

He could feel a few stinging wounds around his arms but could tell they weren't serious. "I have a few cuts and scrapes, but I'll be fine."

"Who's there?" called out a weak voice.

Vilkas turned his attention to where the voice was coming from and walked over to where a man was shackled to the wall. His shirt had been stripped off so the bruises, lacerations and burns that covered his skin were clearly visible. Blood covered the man's face and bruises covered his cheeks and jaw.

"Thorald," Einarr breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank Talos you're still alive."

"Einarr," Thorald chuckled. "My mother sent you to find me, didn't she?"

"Nay, I offered to come. You're family has been good to me over the years; I wouldn't have just forgotten about you, friend."

Vilkas helped Einarr get Thorald free of the shackles and he crumbled to the ground, hissing in pain from his wounds.

"I never thought I'd see another friendly face again," Thorald muttered, his voice tight.

"We need to get to safety as soon as possible," Einarr told him. "Let's move."

"Nay, wait!"

Vilkas arched a brow at the man. "We can't wait long."

"There are other prisoners," the injured man explained. "Through that door, a whole cell block full of innocent people. They have–"

A scream of pain interrupted them. That sounded like a woman.

Nostrils flaring with alarm, Vilkas rushed to the indicated door with Einarr, kicking it in and finding a Thalmor woman standing in front of an open cell, laughing while screams sounded from inside it. She turned when the door opened and Vilkas charged at her, swinging his sword and slicing through her gut. She collapsed immediately, crying out in pain as she died. Einarr joined Vilkas and stepped into the cell, stabbing another soldier who had been viciously beating a blonde Nord woman. Once the soldiers were dead, he watched Einarr kneel beside the woman.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Thank the gods," the woman breathed, her gray eyes sparkling with relief. "Did the Nine send you to save us?"

"Nay, but they must have helped in making sure I got here in time."

Vilkas studied the woman and saw she was as badly beaten as Thorald had been, her pretty face covered in old and new bruises and her lower lip covered in her own blood. Judging from how filthy her skin was it was clear she had been imprisoned for a long time.

"Can you stand?" Einarr asked her.

"Aye," she replied with a nod, getting up on shaking legs. "Who are you, anyway?"

"I'm Einarr and this is Vilkas. We're from Whiterun, Companions."

"Einarr of the Companions?" She gave a gasp. "Wait, you're the Dragonborn!"

Vilkas rolled his eyes when Einarr chuckled. "Aye, that I am."

"Einarr?" rasped an older voice.

Vilkas turned around and saw an old man in his sixties staring at them, his brown eyes wide in shock. The old man was filthy, his skin covered with a layer of grime, making it impossible to judge the tone underneath, and long, dark-gray hair that was matted and ratty, tangling into his matching beard. Although they hadn't seen many of the prisoners, it appeared as if this old man hadn't been tortured at all. But looking closer, Vilkas could see evidence of old torture, faded scars that covered the man's arms. There were probably even more underneath his shirt. But as Vilkas stared at the man, he couldn't shake off the strange feeling that he looked hauntingly familiar.

"You there, the Nord bathed in blood," hissed a reptilian voice. Vilkas turned to the Argonian trying to squeeze his head through the bars. "Could you do us all a favor and let us out of here? There are levers at the end of the hall that open the locks."

Vilkas looked to where he was pointing and jogged over, pulling down each individual lever. The cell doors swung open and the prisoners within walked out, all of their faces shining with relief. The old man that had been staring at Einarr got out of his cell and made his way to the Harbinger. Vilkas watched in shock as, without warning, the old man embraced Einarr, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

"What in Oblivion?" Einarr growled, pushing the old man off. "Listen, I know you're thankful we've freed you, but that doesn't give you the right to–"

"Twenty-seven years," the old man interrupted, his voice thick with emotion. "I thought I'd never see you again, Einarr. I thought I'd die never knowing what happened to you and Freyja."

Einarr visibly stiffened. "How do you know my mother's name? And why do you look familiar?"

"Einarr, Freyja was my wife. You are my son."

Vilkas's eyes widened and he practically slapped his forehead, finally realizing why the old man looked familiar. Underneath the long beard, all that hair and grime, the older man looked almost exactly like Einarr, albeit a lot thinner and frailer. He could see that Einarr was clearly in shock.

"You're my father?" he asked. "But, how? Mother said you died."

"She just assumed. Once the Thalmor take you prisoner, it is unlikely you are ever seen again."

"Thorolf, can your reunion wait until later?" the Nord woman interrupted. "We need to get her out of that cell!"

Thorolf turned to the woman and nodded. "Of course, forgive me, Assa."

Vilkas had to move aside as Thorolf and Assa walked right past him and over to a secured door at the end of the hall, where the Argonian was kneeling in front of the many locks.

"Can you pick it, Sid?" Assa asked him.

"You're an Argonian and your name is Sid?" Vilkas asked, finding it very amusing.

The Argonian's red eyes glared back at him. "Sid is just a nickname. My actual name is Sinks-in-Dark-Waters." Turning to Assa, he grumbled. "These locks will take hours to pick. You're better off just chopping down the door."

"Is there someone in there?" Einarr demanded.

"Aye," Thorolf answered. "We need to get her out of there. Now."

"Stand back." He looked back at Vilkas. "Help me chop down the door."

Vilkas nodded and drew his greatsword once more. Standing beside Einarr, they took turns swinging at the thick wood of the door. The prisoners stood back several feet to watch, Thorald Gray-Mane having joined them after retrieving weapons for each of them from the weapons rack back inside the torture chamber. It took nearly half an hour, but they finally managed to break through the door, recoiling at the stench of disease and infection that poured out.

"Gods, it smells like death," Einarr gagged, moving a safe distance away from the destroyed door.

Vilkas knew Einarr's heightened sense of smell was making the stench a lot worse, so with a nod he stepped into the cell. The sight that he witnessed made him drop his sword and fall to his knees. It was a woman, her arms tightly bound behind her back, lying face down on the floor. He could tell that she had been through Oblivion and back just looking at her body, and if it weren't for the subtle movements of her torso rising and falling, he would have thought she was dead. The rough-spun linen clothes she wore were nothing more than rags covering very little of her broken body. One leg bent at an awkward angle, an old burn scar on the calf, and evidence of branding traveled up from both ankles to her thighs. One of her shoulders was clearly dislocated, and he could see a badly infected scar on her forearm. His brow furrowed, and for a moment he thought he had seen that scar somewhere before.

All of her fingers were broken and he could see a tan line on her ring finger. Her hair was matted and singed, but Vilkas could see even in the dark that once cleaned it would be a shade of dark auburn.

_Dark auburn . . ._

Gasping aloud, Vilkas gently rolled the woman onto her side, letting out a sob once he saw her face. Tears formed in his eyes right away, cutting through the blood, and he took her in his arms, holding her tight and refusing to let her go.

"Vilkas?" Einarr called out. "Vilkas what is it?"

"Einarr," Vilkas could hear how broken his voice sounded. "It's Lassarina."

* * *

_LOLOLOLOL I can't believe you guys actually thought I was going to kill Lassarina! It makes no sense! She's too valuable to the Thalmor to just sanction her death! How she came to be captured will all be explained next chapter._

_Hope you enjoyed the chapter, please **Fave/Follow/Review! **Getting your reviews always makes me smile!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Lassarina's alive! I literally laughed out loud every time a review came in saying, "I KNEW IT!" Seriously people, like I was going to kill Lassarina. That's just cruel. I would never do that to you guys. I make you suffer and I tease you, but I'd never break your hearts._

_Hope you enjoy this chapter! This is Book Four of my series! **Full Moon, Walk in the Shadows, and Sovngarde Beckons **are the prequels in that order._

_Please remember to **Fave/Follow/Review! **_

_Musical Inspiration for this chapter: Home by Michael Buble, Make you Feel my Love by Adele, Seasons of Love from Rent_

* * *

******Chapter Four**

Her body screamed in pain when it was moved and roused Lassarina out of her comatose state. She tried to cry out in pain, but her voice had been reduced to a useless rasp over the last few months. The Thalmor always spiked her drinking water with a drug that numbed her whole mouth for hours, making it nearly impossible to talk, and also slipped in a poison that drained her magicka reserves so she couldn't heal herself. Tears formed in the corner of her eyes when she felt someone cut through the course rope around her bleeding wrists and lift her off the ground.

_Elenwen's early, _she thought bitterly. _It hasn't even been a week since she last came._

But the person moving her didn't possess the usual aggression that all of the soldiers had shown toward her. The person was actually shaking as he cradled her closer to his chest, her cheek pressed against the cool but sticky metal of his armor. It felt amazing against her burning skin. She had started running a fever a few days ago, shortly after she realized the scar on her arm that Elenwen had reopened was infected.

"Is she all right?" demanded a familiar man's voice. It sounded so far away.

"She's burning up," said the voice of the one holding her.

_I know that voice . . ._

"Are any of you a healer?"

"Nay," replied a woman. "They tend to kill anyone with magic. Too risky to keep them prisoner."

"Vilkas, I have a cure disease potion," came in the first man.

_Vilkas?_

Lassarina heard the pop of a cork and seconds later a mouth slanted over hers, forcing her to drink a bitter tasting liquid. She wanted to spit the vile fluid out, but barely had enough strength to swallow. The lips still pressed against hers moved away and she let out a weak whimper.

"Lassarina?"

She forced her eyes open, and the first thing she saw were the warm, tear-filled gray-blue eyes that she had fallen in love with and dreamt about every night since she had gotten captured. A tear of her own ran down her cheek and she managed a small smile.

"Lassarina, thank the gods," Vilkas murmured, pulling her in for a hug. "Don't worry, you're safe."

Relief and joy bloomed in her chest and Lassarina couldn't stop more tears from falling. She had honestly thought she would never see her husband again and would die in the hands of the Thalmor. She had come to the point where she would have gladly welcomed death if it meant that the torture she was put through would end.

She felt a hand come to rest on her cheek, and Vilkas pulled away. Her gaze shifted from her husband's to a reflection of her own. Pale-blue eyes, identical to hers, stared at her, relieved and shining with unshed tears. She recognized her older brother immediately and lifted her shaking hand to touch his face.

"Lassarina," he said her name and brought up his own hand to cover hers, kissing the palm. "You're alive."

"We need to get her out of here," Vilkas said, wiping his eyes with a finger. "We need to get everyone here to safety."

"Aye, you carry her." Einarr turned to the prisoners. "You'll all need to help each other."

Vilkas unintentionally jostled Lassarina as he stood with her still cradled in his arms and a strangled groan hissed out through her clenched teeth. She felt his arms tense around her and felt his lips against her filthy hair.

"I know, love, it hurts," he murmured soothingly. "We're going to get you help."

Every step he took sent a wave of pain through her body, but she fought to keep herself from groaning or whimpering in pain, though her efforts must have been pitiful since Vilkas kept whispering reassurances to her. By the time the group stepped outside and Lassarina got her first gulp of fresh air in months, she was already starting to slip back into unconsciousness.

**oOo**

When she came to again, Lassarina thought that it had all been a cruel dream. Vilkas and Einarr hadn't really come to rescue her. She was still inside the dark cell that reeked of filth that the Thalmor had thrown her in. But when she opened her eyes and saw the sight of the early morning blue sky above her, she realized she was actually free. She tried to push aside the fur blanket of the bedroll she was lying on and sit up, but someone had placed their hand on her good shoulder and gently pushed her back down.

"You shouldn't get up," ordered a voice she had listened to through the door of her cell for the past few months.

"Thorolf?" her voice was a hoarse whisper, but the fact that she could form words meant the daily drug the Thalmor gave her was wearing off. "Thorolf Windblade?"

"Aye, that's right. Don't try and move too much. You'll aggravate your shoulder and all those broken bones."

She didn't need to be told twice. Just moving her head a bit made her whole body ache and tense up. Swallowing her moan of discomfort she lay her head back on the makeshift pillow and only let her eyes move and roam.

"Vilkas?" she asked, swallowing around the dryness in her mouth. "Vilkas? Where–"

"He's nearby," Thorolf reassured her, holding a waterskin to her lips. "Here, drink this."

Lassarina gladly drank from the skin, swallowing as much of the cool water as she possibly could to slake her thirst. Once she had her fill, she was desperate for air, not having stopped to breathe as she drank.

"I'm surprised you can speak," Thorolf chuckled, setting down the skin and placing a cool, damp piece of fabric on her feverish forehead. "You never spoke a word back in the prison."

"Drugged me," she mumbled, having trouble forming complete sentences. "Couldn't speak."

"She's awake?" asked a female voice.

"Aye, she is," Thorolf replied to the woman out of view.

Lassarina remembered there had also been a woman at the prison with them–Assa, if she remembered correctly. The woman's bruised face came into view then, pale-blonde hair falling to her shoulders and gray eyes staring at her in concern. She disappeared again for a moment, and when she returned, she was holding a potion vial in one hand.

"She should drink another cure disease potion," Assa suggested. "Maybe a stamina potion too."

"Good idea," Thorolf agreed.

Assa knelt beside Lassarina and gently lifted her head as she pressed the rim of the vial to her lips. She drank down the bitter potion until it was all gone and was immediately replaced with a green stamina potion. That one was a little easier to drink, and she felt a bit stronger once the contents were in her body.

"We need to pop that shoulder back into place before her muscles are further damaged," Thorolf said. He brought a wad of cloth to Lassarina's mouth. "Bite down on this."

Lassarina obeyed blindly and groaned when they helped her into a seated position. Thorolf commanded the Nord woman to hold Lassarina still while he took her arm in one hand and held onto her shoulder with the other. She bit down on the gag as hard as she possibly could and tensed, preparing herself for the pain. Thorolf yanked her shoulder sharply and she screamed through the cloth as her shoulder popped back into place.

"Here, a health potion," Assa offered her a vial full of red liquid.

"Nay," Lassarina groaned, pulling the wad of cloth out of her mouth. "Magicka potion."

Assa nodded and brought her the blue elixir, which Lassarina snatched from her and gulped down. Once it was gone, she waited a few moments and pressed her hand to the infected wound on her arm. Golden light surrounded it, burning away all the pus and covering the nasty cuts with a hard, protective scab. Once that was done, she healed her wrists and then her shoulder, numbing the aching pain pulsing through her muscles. She could feel she had a few broken ribs, so she healed those as well, draining her magicka.

"I need another potion," she gasped. "I need to heal my leg."

"You should rest, dear," Thorolf told her. "Even your mother wasn't foolish enough to use too much magic at once."

"But–"

"We aren't going anywhere. We all need to rest before we start moving somewhere safer."

Lassarina huffed but knew he was right. Looking around, she tried to figure out where in Oblivion they were.

"The Dragonborn found this ravine," Assa explained. "We're a few hours out of Dragon Bridge."

"Where is Einarr?" Lassarina asked. "And my husband. Where's Vilkas?"

"There's a pool of water nearby. Vilkas's washing all that Thalmor blood off himself; he was getting it all over you. And Einarr rode to Dragon Bridge to buy some supplies: food, clothes, the necessities."

For the first time, Lassarina noticed that a lot of the blood smudging her grimy, gray skin wasn't her own. Vilkas's face _had_ been coated with blood when she opened her eyes the night before and saw him looking down at her. Now she was envious that he was getting clean when the last time she got a bath was . . . she couldn't even remember.

"Please, can I just have the other magicka potion?" Lassarina sighed. "I need to fix my leg."

Assa and Thorolf exchanged a look, but finally he nodded and they handed her a second blue potion. She gulped it down quickly and got to work on healing her broken leg right away. Elenwen had been the one to snap it herself, a pleased look on her cruel face as Lassarina screamed from the pain. She managed to piece the shattered bone back together after several minutes and was exhausted from straining herself. She had also been so focused on healing that she hadn't noticed Assa and Thorolf had moved away and Vilkas was now kneeling beside her, wearing clean leather trousers and a linen shirt, his face now clean of blood.

"Vilkas," she breathed, tears welling in her eyes all over again as she reached for him.

He gave her a shaky smile and pulled her onto his lap. "Lassarina, love."

"I was afraid it wasn't real. I thought it had just been a dream."

"Nay, it was real."

She pulled away and his hand cupped the side of her face, brushing away her tears with his thumb. When he lowered his head to hers, she gladly accepted the hungry kiss, ignoring the mild discomfort of the small cut on her lip. She locked her hands behind his neck, savoring the solidity of his warm body pressed against hers. Lassarina didn't think she'd ever feel it again.

"How did you know where I was?" she asked him breathlessly.

She saw his eyes darken. "We . . . we didn't know. Lassarina, love, we thought you had died in that fire. We came to rescue Eorland's son. It was pure luck and a damned miracle we even found you. But I'm glad we did."

Vilkas kissed her again, but she pulled away with a whimper. "You thought I died?"

"Aye. The entire meadery was collapsing in on itself by the time we heard what had happened. I ran over from the house as quickly as I could and arrived just as the guards were setting a charred body on the ground. There were Guild leathers on her and your ring was around her finger. I" –he broke off to take a deep breath. Reliving the whole experience was obviously upsetting him— "I assumed it was you. The body was so badly burned you couldn't even make out who it was."

"It was a Thalmor trap," she told him, her voice bitter. "Mallus trapped me in his room and a beam fell on me before I could get out. I thought I was going to die, but then the door opened and these Thalmor soldiers came in with a dead body. They took my wedding ring and knocked me out. When I came to, I was bound, blinded, and gagged and on a cart heading to that prison."

Vilkas frowned and hugged her to his chest. "I'm just so thankful you're alive . . . I haven't been myself without you. I missed you so much."

"Aye, I know, I missed you too, love."

They held each other for several more minutes before Lassarina finally started to feel self-conscious over how repulsively filthy she was. She pulled away from Vilkas and looked up at him.

"Love, where's that pool?" she asked him. "I feel disgusting."

With a nod, he moved his arms under her shoulders and legs and lifted her into the air. She wanted to protest but doubted she'd be able to walk three steps without collapsing. The fur blanket was still covering her body, which she was thankful for since the linen clothing she had been forced to wear in the prison was just rags covering very little. The pool was isolated from their makeshift camp, and Vilkas set her down on the ground, stripping off his shirt and laying it on a rock. He helped her strip off the gross rags and got into the water with her, trousers still on.

"Gods, what did those bastards put you through?" he choked out, running his hand along her back.

Lassarina felt a lump form in her throat. "Could we not talk about it?"

She didn't have to look at him to know he was frowning. His hands were still delicately tracing the whip marks criss-crossed across her back and came to a stop at the mark on her left shoulder. She flinched when she felt his fingertips shaking.

"They _branded _you?" he growled angrily.

"They brand everyone they take prisoner," she replied numbly, pulling away from him and sinking deeper into the water until it went past her shoulders.

Taking a deep breath and holding it, she dunked her head under the water and raked her fingers through her hair, scrubbing madly and wishing for some soap. When Lassarina came up for air, Vilkas's arms wrapped around her waist and he slipped something into her hand. Soap. Smiling, she glanced over her shoulder at her husband and caught the pained look in his eyes.

"These wounds will heal, Vilkas," she told him.

"Aye," he told her with a forced smile.

Then they both fell silent and worked together to get her clean.

**oOo**

It was nearly sunset when Einarr finally returned from Dragon Bridge, a pack filled with supplies strapped to Ally's saddle. The camp looked exactly the way he left it, except for the people in it. They had clearly taken the time to wash up while he had been gone and looked like completely different people now that all the grime was washed off of them. His eyes immediately searched for his sister and he found her fast asleep in Vilkas's bedroll, using her husband's lap for a pillow. He breathed out a sigh of relief, glad to see his sister was still with them and that it hadn't just been an illusion.

"Dragonborn, welcome back!" called out the Nord woman, Assa.

Einarr turned to look at her and found her standing behind his father, sheers in her hand. It still felt strange, knowing his father was still alive and only a few feet away from him; it actually didn't even feel real. When he first pushed away the old man embracing him back in the prison, he couldn't see a trace of his father in him. The man was old and wrinkled, his hair gray instead of honey brown like his own.

But he looked at the man sitting in front of Assa and felt the flood of childhood memories begin to overwhelm him. His beard had been shaved off and the long gray locks were cut into the short haircut Einarr remembered his father having when he was a child. Thorolf didn't look as old anymore now that the beard was gone, sporting less wrinkles than he initially assumed. He had discarded the linen shirt he had been wearing so Assa could have an easier time cutting his hair, and even though he was far too skinny and covered with more scars than Einarr remembered, his body was still tight with muscle. His eyes were the same brown, although now they were dark and haunted.

"Einarr," Thorolf greeted him with a tired smile.

He immediately felt uncomfortable, wondering what one said to the father who he assumed to be dead for the past twenty-seven years. "You . . . you look more like I remember."

His father chuckled and rubbed his now-smooth cheeks. "Aye, I probably startled you. Some strange-looking old man claiming to be your father."

"You look a lot more handsome now that your disgusting beard is gone," Assa teased. She looked up at Einarr. "You both actually look exactly alike. Except for the eyes."

Einarr swallowed and brought over the pack. "I bought everyone a change of clothes."

Assa set down the sheers and took the pack from him. "Thank you, Dragonborn."

"Please, call me Einarr. I hate titles."

"Oh, sorry."

"Nay, it's fine. You didn't know."

"Finally, I can get out of these damned rags," Thorald Gray-Mane grumbled, walking over with the Argonian Sinks-in-Dark-Waters, commonly referred to by the other prisoners as Sid.

"Oh yes, gods forbid that the man from the prestigious Clan Gray-Mane has to walk around in rags," Sid hissed sarcastically.

"Sid, please be nice," Assa begged the Argonian as she watched the two rummage through the packs for clothing.

Sid stared at her for a moment before shrugging. "Fine, but you can forget about me being the Stormcloaks courier after this.

Both Sid and Thorald took what they needed and walked away. Assa, shaking her head, pulled the two dresses out of the pack and carried one over to Vilkas and Lassarina. Vilkas gratefully took it but made no move to wake Lassarina, putting the dress to the side while Assa walked off to where she could change in private. Einarr looked at his father and saw him rummaging through the pack, pulling out a clean tunic and pulling it on.

"Are you just going to stand there all day staring, son, or are we going to talk?" his father asked him, arching a brow.

Einarr rubbed the back of his neck and lowered himself to the ground. "Sorry, I just don't know what to say . . ."

Thorolf sighed and ran his hand across his face. "Don't apologize. I honestly don't know what to say either." He looked over to Lassarina. "Why don't you go check on your sister? We can figure out what we want to say to each other."

"Nay. She's asleep and has obviously had a rough few months."

"You can't even imagine."

Einarr looked at his father awkwardly. "You're probably wondering about her. See, the thing is–"

"I know she's not my daughter," his father interrupted. "Assa told me what she knew about Lassarina. The bastard child of the Bear of Eastmarch and half-sister to Ulfric Stormcloak."

"Mother thought you were dead, or else she never would have–"

"You don't need to make excuses for your mother, son. It's as you said: she thought I was dead. I'm not angry with her." The sour expression on his face said otherwise. "I'll be happy just to see her again."

His whole body tensed as Einarr was struck with the realization that his father had no idea that the woman he loved was dead. How was he going to break the news to him?

"Da," he began with a mournful sigh. "About mother . . ."

Thorolf was already looking at him, his eyes darkened. "She's dead, isn't she?"

"Aye."

"How long ago?"

"It's been twenty years, I believe. Lassarina was only four when it happened."

Thorolf shook his head and buried his face in his hands, as if he were trying to make the whole world just go away in that moment. "Was it the Thalmor? Did they find her?"

"Nay, it was a man named Mercer Frey. Mother caught his eye, but she wasn't even remotely interested in him. He didn't care for being rejected, so . . ." He trailed off and let his father make a pretty good assumption over what happened. "After he was done with her he gave her some poison that slowly killed her. To the healers, it seemed as if she were dying from some sickness. Never occurred to us that she had been poisoned."

"Einarr . . . I'm so sorry you had to suffer through all of that. I tried escaping–"

"It isn't your fault, Da. If anything, it's Delphine's fault for coming to our home that night. She might as well have told the Thalmor where we were."

"Twenty-seven years you all thought I was dead, son. I can't get back that time. I missed out on everything! Your childhood, I didn't get to watch you grow up into a man. I don't know anything about you except that you're the Dragonborn."

He felt bad for his father, knowing that all of this couldn't be easy for him. It felt similar to when Einarr was reunited with Lassarina a couple of months after Alduin destroyed Helgen. They had been separated for sixteen years, and all he had known about her was outdated information. He doubted that his sister had still been interested in dolls and drawing in the dirt at age twenty. He also felt the same when reunited with Kiraya. But that had been a bit easier to adjust to, since she had still been young when he found her and they'd only been apart seven years. Einarr had to make it easier on him.

"Well, I'm Harbinger of the Companions," he started, offering his father a sympathetic smile. "It's been my job for the past four years. I spend my free time at the Skyforge, crafting weapons out of dragon bones and scales. I'm a widower–my wife died giving birth to our daughter thirteen years ago."

"You have a daughter?" Thorolf asked.

"Aye, her name is Kiraya. You'll meet her when we get to Whiterun."

"Kiraya. That's a rather . . . exotic name."

Einarr nodded. "It's a Khajiit name. After mother died, the matron of Honorhall wouldn't take me in, said I was too old, so they passed me onto a Khajiit caravan that had been camped outside of Riften. I traveled with them for about ten years before I left to find Lassarina. Faraya was one the caravan leader's daughters."

"So your wife was–"

"A Khajiit. Kiraya is half-Khajiit." Einarr's gaze hardened a bit and he looked directly into his father's eyes. "That isn't a problem, is it?"

His father stared right back at him for several moments before he smirked and shook his head. "Nay, not a problem. Love doesn't judge by race, son. I'm only sorry my granddaughter didn't have me around to spoil her when she was younger."

"She can still be spoiled."

Thorolf chuckled heartily and ran his fingers through his freshly trimmed hair. Einarr noticed him looking over to Lassarina and Vilkas with a sad look in his eyes. He looked over at his sister and saw that her face had gone tense, her brows drawn together. He recognized that very expression from when she was a little girl having a bad dream.

"How bad was it for her?" he asked his father.

Thorolf sighed and shook his head. "Bad. She said they were drugging her so she couldn't speak, so Elenwen wasn't torturing her for information. Thalmor bitch was just torturing her for fun. Only Elenwen was allowed to lay a hand on her, so she was only put through all that maybe four times a month, but it was always long and drawn out. I speak from experience."

"We just need to get her home. Back to her children."

"She has children?"

"Aye, two of them. Twin two-year olds, a boy and girl named Faolan and Lyanna. Should be three children but . . . she miscarried her first." He cleared his throat, trying to forget the sad event that caused his sister to spiral out of control and hit rock bottom. "They're lovely children, although a bit too mischievous for their own good. Lyanna looks just like her mother."

"When Elenwen had her moved out of her cell for the first time, I thought I was looking right at Freyja," Thorolf murmured, his voice distant. "I knew that couldn't be, Lassarina was far too young, so I realized that she had to be Freyja's daughter. Part of me hoped and dreaded that she was my daughter. Assa told me the truth, but it's still almost impossible for me to look at her and not think it."

"Lassarina never knew her real father. She was only a year old when Fjrokvar passed away and his son Ulfric had us banished from Windhelm. She didn't even know she was Ulfric's half-sister until four years ago. I don't think she'd object to you thinking of yourself as her father. She'd probably even offer to take you to mother's grave when she decides to make the trip to Riften to inform the Guild she's alive."

Thorolf looked at him sharply. "The Guild? The _Thieves _Guild?"

Einarr laughed and pulled two bottles of mead he purchased at Dragon Bridge out of his pack. "Welcome to our dysfunctional family, Da."

**oOo**

"Please, stop," Lassarina begged, tears streaming down her face. "Please, no more!"

"Lassarina, love, wake up!" Vilkas's voice urged her. "You're having a nightmare!"

She opened her eyes with a gasp and tried to sit up but was being securely held by Vilkas. Her whole body was trembling with fear from how real and intense her nightmare had been, but Vilkas was quickly soothing her with gentle kisses and reassuring words. He had far too much experience with soothing her after a nightmare, a skill he was forced to pick up when he and Finverior saw her through her rehabilitation when she quit taking skooma. Those nightmares had been just as terrifying as the one she had just had and took months to go away.

_How long until these go away? _she wondered to herself. _How long do I have to wake up screaming? Dread that the first thing I'll see is Elenwen's face as she's getting ready to cut into me?_

"You're all right, love," Vilkas told her, hugging her close. "You're safe."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, hiding her face against his chest.

"Nay, it's fine, don't apologize. You haven't been the only one having nightmares. Assa's been crying in her sleep, Thorald couldn't lay still, and the Argonian hasn't slept at all."

Lassarina pulled herself away from Vilkas as saw that the sky was already starting to light up with the beginning of dawn. They would arrive at Whiterun today after a week on the road. It took them a lot longer to travel on foot, especially since the majority of their group was weak and injured, but once they reached the city Einarr would hire a carriage to take Assa and Sinks-in-Dark-Waters back to Windhelm. Thorald Gray-Mane said he was going with them, since it was too risky outside of Stormcloak territory, and he was going to take his brother Avulstein with him. Einarr's father Thorolf would remain with them.

She was glad that her brother's father was still alive, and seeing them together, catching up after so much time apart, made her happy. It surprised her a bit when Thorolf first spoke to her, saying he wanted to get to know her better. He told Lassarina that since she was Freyja's daughter he couldn't help but feel she was like his own daughter. It wasn't something she had been expecting, but since she never knew her real father and her adopted father had been a disgusting pig, she liked the idea of having an actual father figure in her life.

"Everyone, wake up," Einarr called out. "We're only a few hours from Whiterun."

No one complained, and their makeshift camp was packed up quickly and tied to the saddles of Einarr and Vilkas's horses. Lassarina took the staff Vilkas handed her so she could lean on it as they walked. While she had healed her broken leg, it still ached when she put too much weight on it, so her brother had found a fallen tree branch and carved it into a crude staff to help her get around. She didn't need the staff much, however, since Vilkas was always by her side, arm around her waist and helping her every step of the way.

"Anxious to get home?" he asked her quietly.

Lassarina nodded and smiled at him. "I can't wait to see Faolan and Lyanna. The entire time I was locked up you and the twins were all I could think about." Her smile turned into a frown. "That and making Mallus pay for handing me to the Thalmor."

"Mallus has already been taken care of," her husband growled, his tone becoming angry and aggressive.

"How?"

"I contacted your friend Daine and asked her to help me track the bastard down. We found him a month ago in Markarth, and he told us that the Thalmor had hired him to trap you in the meadery. I didn't know you were still alive and broke his neck while I was strangling him."

"Good. That son of a bitch deserved it for making you all think I died and for making me receive torture at the hands of the Thalmor."

They fell silent after that, both of them stewing in their mutual anger of a dead man. Meeting no trouble on the road, they arrived at the Whiterun stables four hours later and Einarr led Assa and Sinks-in-Dark-Waters to the carriage. The pretty Nord woman hugged him, thanking him for saving her life, and then turned to Thorolf, embracing the old man and telling him to keep in touch and visit her in Windhelm. Once they got on the carriage and were on their way, Einarr led them up the trail to the gates, stopping at the sight that greeted them.

Normally there were only ever two bored guards standing in position in front of the Whiterun gates, but today there were four, all of them looking alert and drawing their blades when they heard people approaching. When they recognized Einarr, they lowered their weapons.

"Dragonborn," they greeted him.

"What's going on?" Einarr asked them.

One of the guards stepped forward, his face serious as he looked over to Vilkas. "Companion, there's been an incident at your home."

"What kind of incident?" Vilkas demanded.

Lassarina stepped forward, her heart racing. "What happened?"

The guards all looked shocked to see her alive and standing in front of them. "Dragonborn, you're–"

"Alive, aye, I'm aware," she cut them off sharply. "Now tell me what happened!"

"There was a break-in at your home three days ago," one of them explained. "The guards who had been patrolling the area were knocked out so they didn't see anything."

Vilkas let out an annoyed growl. "All the extra security over some thieves?"

"Nay . . . that wasn't all that happened. You see, Jorrvaskr's caretaker, Tilma, she was–"

"Was Tilma harmed?" Einarr demanded.

"They slit her throat, Dragonborn."

Lassarina gasped and covered her mouth, tears already forming in her eyes. Tilma was dead? The old woman had been like a grandmother to her and everyone in Jorrvaskr. She remembered how the elderly woman doted on her when Lassarina first came to Skyrim and was living with the Companions, working as a maid to make enough coin to get her to Riften. Tilma had constantly fed her, since she had been extremely thin back then and nursed her back to full health. Knowing she was now dead was almost too much to bear.

"Could it have been one of your thieves?" Vilkas asked her.

She shook her head and wiped away her tears. "Nay, they know not to steal from our family. I carved a Shadowmark of protection into our door as an added precaution just in case."

"That wasn't all," the guard spoke up.

Lassarina and Vilkas glared at him. "What else?"

"It pains me to have to tell you this, but . . . I'm sorry, but they also took something."

"What did they take?" Lassarina growled.

"Your children."

* * *

_Ever see videos of a mother lion and her cubs? Ever see what happens when something threatens her babies? Okay, well now you're going to see a Dragonborn who's pissed her babies were taken. Dragonborn Rampage people! It's going to be a blood bath!_

_Hope you enjoyed the chapter, please **Fave/Follow/Review! **Getting your reviews always makes me smile!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Just a Point A to Point B chapter._

_Hope you enjoy this chapter! This is Book Four of my series! **Full Moon, Walk in the Shadows, and Sovngarde Beckons **are the prequels in that order._

_Please remember to **Fave/Follow/Review! **_

_Musical Inspiration for this chapter: Mad World by Gary Jules, In the End by Linkin Park_

* * *

******Chapter Five**

******(31********st******** of the First Seed, 4E 205)**

Vilkas awoke when he felt the bed shift beside him and sat up at the sound of the door opening. He managed to see Lassarina's form step out of their bedroom just in time and quickly hurried out of bed to catch her. He followed her out of the room and found her standing in the doorway of Faolan and Lyanna's bedroom.

"Lassarina?" he quietly called out to her.

"I thought I'd come in and check on them," she explained without turning around. "I used to do it every night, just to make sure they were still okay."

Vilkas frowned and walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. He could see she was staring at the bed that Faolan and Lyanna shared at night–the bed that was now empty. It pained him to not see their children there, but he knew that it couldn't compare to how his wife felt. All she talked about when they walked back from the prison was how she had been looking forward to seeing the twins again, how she had feared she'd never see them again.

That first day they returned and walked into their home, they were dumbstruck from the condition of the interior. Furniture overturned, a large scorch mark on the wall where the intruders had attempted to start a fire, and a large bloodstain on the floor where Tilma had been left to bleed out. Luckily the fire had been contained and the damage was easily fixable, but the blood stain wouldn't come out and likely never would. Lassarina had shut down after having taken it all in and stayed in bed all day, refusing to see anyone except Vilkas. It was if she thought that if she hid under the fur blanket, all her troubles would go away.

"Love, this is the third night in a row you've done this," Vilkas told her gently, not wanting to upset her.

"I should be out there with Einarr and Aela," she whispered. "I should be helping them look."

"Lassarina, you're still weak and injured."

"Then you could have gone!"

"I would have only slowed them down. Maybe if I still had the beastblood . . ." he trailed off, for the second time in his life wishing he were still a werewolf. "Lassarina, Einarr and Aela left the moment the guards told us. They missed Tilma's funeral so that they could stay on the scent trail. They'll find the twins. We just have to wait for them."

Lassarina pulled away from his embrace and sat down on the small bed, picking up one of Lyanna's many dolls and holding it. "It's my fault they were taken."

"Lassarina, don't say that."

"Nay, it is my fault. Elenwen thought that just having me would be enough, but I wouldn't break so she sent some of her agents to take Faolan and Lyanna. She would have used them as leverage against me or she would have just killed me and started fresh with them." He watched her shaking hands grip the doll tighter. "Gods . . . what if she hurts them? They're still babies; they wouldn't understand why they're being hurt!"

Vilkas walked over and gripped her shoulders. "They aren't going to hurt Faolan and Lyanna. Even without you, they're still perfect hostages. Trust me, they won't harm a hair on their heads."

Just looking at her distraught face broke his heart. He wanted nothing more than to go out and find his children, but he needed to stay with her and be strong. Vilkas didn't want her to be alone, fearing she might spiral out again and turn to dangerous vices to deal with her grief. The last thing the twins needed when they were returned was to have their mother on skooma again.

"Lassarina, let's go back to bed. You're only torturing yourself with this."

She hesitated for a moment, but finally she nodded and let Vilkas lead her back to their bedroom and tuck her under the warm fur blanket. He lay beside her, hugging her to his chest and stroking her hair soothingly as she drifted off. The slow, steady breaths a few minutes later signified she had fallen asleep, and he finally allowed the wall he built within him to crumble. His whole body shook with grief and guilt, and he felt disgusted with himself.

His wife blamed herself for the Thalmor taking their children, but in truth Vilkas was the one to blame. He just knew that the gods were punishing him for the way he had behaved when he thought Lassarina had died. They hadn't approved of how neglectful he had been to them during those dark four months when he cared more about the bottle in his hand than his only children. He ignored them, sleeping all day and drinking all night, not even worrying about whether they had eaten or not. Farkas and Avyanna had been the ones to take care of his children after Lassarina's "death," not him.

_Please, _he prayed silently. _Please, if you just give them back safe and sound, I swear I'll never neglect them again. Just please, bring our children back._

**oOo**

Thorolf sat at the large table in Jorrvaskr alone, sipping some mead out of a tankard and eating a sweetroll. It was very early in the morning, the sun having risen only an hour ago, but it was becoming his favorite time in the day. None of the Companions were awake yet except for the caretaker, Rona, and she was too busy distracting herself from her predecessor's death to take much notice of him. The poor Nord woman was so distraught over Tilma's death that she was furiously wiping down every inch of the hall with the rag in her hand.

_That Tilma must have meant a lot to everyone, _he thought to himself, having observed how everyone in the mead hall were in different states of mourning.

Einarr had left immediately after they arrived in Whiterun with Aela, an intimidating, red-haired Nord woman with war paint streaked across her face. They had gone to search for Lassarina's children, stating they needed to move while the trail was still fresh. Vilkas had been the one to take him to Jorrvaskr and ask Rona to make sure he was comfortable. It had made for an awkward few days, a strange old man suddenly appearing in the hall with no explanation from their Harbinger as to who he was and why he was there. Thorolf was thankful he had been allowed to stay in his son's room, since he didn't think he'd be too comfortable staying in the room many of the members shared. Apparently only high-ranking members of the Companions had their own private rooms.

He glanced up and stiffened a bit when he heard the door to the dormitories open and frowned distastefully when he saw the wolf that stayed in the hall lope up the stairs. The large gray-brown wolf noticed him right away and curled its lips slightly, a low growl rumbling in its throat as its fur fluffed out. Thorolf did not like the idea having a dangerous animal around him, but everyone else in the hall treated the animal as if it were a dog, scratching its ears and throwing scraps of food on the floor for it. Rona had told him that the wolf belonged to Lassarina and she had raised it from a pup so it was completely tame, but Thorolf still didn't trust it. He had hunted too many back in his day and had been bitten one too many times to feel comfortable around this one, and it seemed to sense that he didn't like it, because it sure didn't seem to like him, either.

"Fang, why are you growling?" muttered a sleepy voice coming up the stairs.

Thorolf stopped his glaring contest with the wolf and looked at his granddaughter just as she appeared. He would be lying if he said he hadn't been a bit shocked and unnerved at her appearance when he first saw her. She had the face and body of a Nord child, but had very obvious Khajiit features that would make her stand out in any crowd. Her ears and eyes were clearly feline and she had a tail gently swaying behind her. Honey-brown fur lightly dusted her arms and he assumed other parts of her body, and her canines were a lot longer and sharper than normal, as were her fingernails. He hadn't had the opportunity to speak to her in the few days he'd been there, having wanting his son with him when he spoke to her.

"Oh," she murmured when she saw him. "It's you."

"Good morning," he nodded politely. "You're awake early."

"Fang woke me. I think he wanted to go outside." Clicking her tongue to the wolf, she led him over to the back doors and let him out.

"You're just going to let him wander around freely?"

"The whole city knows that Fang is harmless," she explained with a shrug as she walked over and grabbed a sweetroll off the platter.

Thorolf nodded and motioned to the treat in her hand. "They're good, aren't they?"

Kiraya shrugged and frowned. "Tilma's were better."

Thorolf glanced at Rona, who had been the one to make the sweetrolls, and saw her scrubbing at the railing even harder. "You shouldn't say that. Rona worked hard to make them."

"Nay, it's fine," Rona suddenly spoke up, her voice tight. "Tilma's _were_ better. It's the same recipe, but I can't put in the same amount of love Tilma did."

Thorolf gave the woman a sympathetic smile and turned back to Kiraya, who was looking right at him with a hardened look in her eyes. She was studying him, trying to determine if he could be trusted or not. Thorolf couldn't help but notice that she looked a bit similar to Freyja when she had been Kiraya's age, but had some of Einarr's features. Her nose was definitely her father's, as were her hair/fur color, the color of her eyes, and even her expressions. He could remember seeing that inquisitive look in Einarr's eyes when he was a child.

"Were you locked up in the same prison as my aunt?" Kiraya asked him suddenly.

Thorolf cleared his throat and nodded. "Aye, I was. I had been a prisoner to the Thalmor for nearly thirty years."

Her eyes widened. "Whoa, that's a long time."

"I know, long enough that I had forgotten what sweetrolls and mead tasted like." He proceeded to take an enormous bite of the sweet treat, some of the icing sticking to his lips, causing Kiraya to smirk.

"Here." She offered him a linen napkin.

Thorolf took it and wiped his mouth. "Thank you."

"All right, so you're my grandfather, right?"

Thorolf looked at her surprised. "How'd you guess?"

"I didn't really need to. You look exactly like Papa, just older and with brown eyes. Grandma Freyja showed me what you looked like too."

That shocked Thorolf even more. "Wait, Freyja showed you? But she died before you were born; your father told me."

Kiraya shifted uncomfortably, biting into her sweetroll and speaking with her mouth full. "Well, I met grandmother in a dream last year. The Nine made her their envoy to speak to Papa and Aunt Lassarina in their dreams and get them to face their destinies as Dragonborn, but they wouldn't listen to her, so she came to me and asked for my help. She kind of took over my body for a couple of days to force Papa and Aunt Rina into swearing they'd face their destinies."

"Freyja's spirit _possessed _you?"

"Aye, and while she used my body she showed me Papa's past. I got to see him as a little boy, and I saw you and grandmother. I also saw him and my mama. Once grandmother was done using my body, she asked me not to tell Papa who she really was so he wouldn't be upset."

Thorolf let out a huge breath and raked his fingers through his hair, unsure how to process this. The Freyja he remembered wouldn't have backed her children into a corner the way she did. She would have told the world to take care of itself before forcing her children to walk into something as dangerous as the Dragonborn's destiny. But then again, Freyja couldn't have known her children were Dragonborn when they were growing up. She never even got the chance to watch them completely grow up.

"I didn't mind that she borrowed my body," Kiraya continued. "It was just a little push for Papa and Aunt Lassarina to do the right thing and be heroes. Thanks to them, Alduin is dead and we don't have to worry about him destroying the world. All that's left is for Papa and Aunt Rina to kill the rest of the dragons."

"You don't like dragons?" he asked her.

Kiraya angrily shook her head. "Nay, because of dragons Grandpa Za'Nir and Aunt Tahana and the rest of our caravan are dead. Papa almost died because of a dragon too. It was going to kill me, but he threw himself in front of it and it bit him." Her eyes darkened. "He lost a lot of blood and his bones broke. He didn't wake up for two months."

That bothered Thorolf a bit, knowing his only son had nearly died. He would still be locked up in the prison if that had happened, and so would Lassarina. The doors to Jorrvaskr suddenly opened and he looked up to see Vilkas leading in Lassarina, both of them looking tired and distraught.

"Aunt Rina!" Kiraya cried out, getting up from her chair and running up to her aunt to embrace her.

Even though they had been in Whiterun a few days now, Thorolf knew that this was the first time his granddaughter was seeing Lassarina. The young girl clung to her aunt, tears spilling down her cheeks. Lassarina herself was crying as well, but there was a hint of smile on her face as she stroked her niece's hair and kissed her cheeks.

"We thought you were dead!" Kiraya sobbed.

"I know," Lassarina murmured. "But I'm not. I'm right here, sweetie."

"Did the Thalmor hurt you?"

Thorolf saw Lassarina wince a bit before she answered, "Nay, they didn't hurt me. I was completely fine." She pulled away from Kiraya and wiped the tears from both her niece's and her own face. "Vilkas and I came to see if your father and Aela came back yet."

"They haven't," Thorolf answered sadly.

Vilkas immediately placed a hand on his wife's shoulder and led her to the table to sit down. "They'll be back soon, love."

"I don't understand why the Thalmor would take Faolan and Lyanna," Kiraya said, sitting down beside her aunt.

"It's hard to say," Thorolf answered. "I think the more likely reason is that they realized you had escaped and they needed leverage. It took us a week to walk here, more than enough time for the Thalmor to realize the prison had been attacked and cleared out. An agent could have reported back to Elenwen, and she could have sent them to take your children."

Lassarina hid her face in her hands. "I should have never gone to the meadery alone. If I had just taken you with me, Vilkas, none of this would have happened."

"I should have been more insistent," Vilkas spoke softly to his wife, stroking her stil-singed hair.

"Papa will find Faolan and Lyanna," Kiraya said. "He never loses a trail."

"Aye, I taught him how to track," Thorolf added.

Kiraya exchanged a look with Vilkas, both of them obviously sharing a secret, one that made Lassarina chuckle a bit. It bothered Thorolf, since he never enjoyed keeping secrets. The only time he found keeping a secret acceptable was when he and Freyja were in hiding from the Thalmor and hid their true identities to protect their family. He honestly wished he could go back to when he was Eirik, a simple hunter living in the woods of Falkreath with his wife Edana and their son Einarr. He would have moved his family the night Delphine came to them, found a new place to live just so he wouldn't have been taken from them.

"Kiraya, Vilkas, good morning," a high-born accent came from the stairs.

Thorolf stiffened and fought against the small bubble of panic that was beginning to form within him. He knew all about the Altmer, Julius, among the Companions, but he was not at all comfortable being in the same room with him. Lassarina clearly felt the same, and it was clear she hadn't been made aware of Julius, because the moment he spoke she got up so fast she knocked over the chair she had been sitting in. She grabbed a dinner knife from the table and pointed it at the high elf.

"What is an Altmer doing here?" she spat.

"Lassarina, stop!" Vilkas growled, wrenching the knife from her hand.

"Julius is a Companion," Kiraya added. "He's not Thalmor."

Julius had been holding his hands up in surrender, and looked extremely nervous. "So this is Einarr's sister then?"

"Forgive her, Julius, she's just a little nervous around Altmer right now," Vilkas apologized.

"Aye, and I have a right to be!" Lassarina snapped. "I've spent the last four months imprisoned in a _Thalmor _prison and was tortured by their chief Talos hunter!"

"Lassarina, listen to yourself! You're starting to sound like Ulfric!"

"Maybe Ulfric had a fucking point this whole time!" she pointed at Julius. "It's his people that formed the Thalmor!"

"Look, I'll just leave," Julius said. "I had to go out on a job anyway. I'm sorry if I've made anyone uneasy, but believe me, I have no ties to the Thalmor. In fact, I'm no more fond of them than Ulfric Stormcloak."

The Altmer left the mead hall, Thorolf keeping his eyes on the tall being the entire time he walked. He could sense that the elf was being sincere when he said he didn't care for the Thalmor, but it still didn't help him feel any less uneasy. Twenty-seven years of being a Thalmor prisoner left some very complex trauma rooted deeply within him, trauma that had been rooted in Lassarina as well.

"She's gone through a traumatic experience, Vilkas," Thorolf spoke softly. "Her mother was terrified of horses after being thrown off and breaking an arm as a child."

"The Thalmor should hopefully be gone soon," Vilkas said, righting the chair Lassarina knocked over and urging her to sit down. "When we thought she had died, I tracked down the owner of the meadery because I thought he had something to do with her death. He had been hired by the Thalmor to arrange the whole thing. I wrote to Ulfric afterward to see if he'd put up more of a front in the war efforts, but he never wrote back."

"I'll write to him as soon as Einarr and Aela come back," Lassarina added. "The Thalmor need to leave Skyrim within the year or things will just get worse."

The morning went by quickly after that. Members of the Companions woke to find Lassarina in the hall and welcomed her back affectionately, exchanging hugs, kisses, and in one case tears. Vilkas's brother, Farkas, came around sometime late in the morning and embraced Lassarina so tightly that Vilkas had to pull him off of her. Thorolf had been quite surprised to discover that Vilkas had a twin, but there were obvious differences between the two that made it easy to tell them apart. Farkas had brought his wife with him, a scarlet-haired Nord woman named Avyanna, and their two sons, Trystane and Kellen. Avyanna had been in hysterics when she finally saw Lassarina and the two women refused to let go of each other.

But at one point during the day Lassarina asked, "Where's Finn?"

"Winterhold," Vilkas was the one to answer her. "He . . . he didn't take your death well and has been doing things that are very strange, even for him. He's been staying with his uncle for the past couple of weeks."

"Is Finn another Companion?" Thorolf asked.

"In a way," Lassarina chuckled lightly. "He's a friend I met a couple of years back. We spent half a year traveling together."

"Is traveling another word for robbing Skyrim blind?" Farkas teased. "Finverior and Lassarina are our two thieving shield-siblings."

Thorolf nodded. "Ah, that's right, Einarr mentioned you were a thief."

"You don't grow up in Riften without learning a thing or two about stealing," she rationalized. "I don't steal as often anymore, though."

"Lassarina, your hair is a mess," Avyanna suddenly spoke up. "It's still singed."

"Well, they didn't exactly make me comfortable in the prison."

The woman handed the infant son she'd been cradling to Farkas and went over to a nearby room, coming out a moment later with sheers in hand. Thorolf looked at Farkas's son from where he sat and smiled at how sweet the boy looked. It had been so long since he'd seen a baby, and it made him mourn the life he'd missed out on. He and Freyja probably would have had more children if the Thalmor had never taken him. He remembered times when Einarr would run up to them and ask for a little brother to play with, but never a sister because he didn't like girls.

_Amusing that a sister was exactly what he got, _he thought to himself. _A sister that he clearly loves very much._

Thorolf had seen the tears of relief in his son's eyes back at the prison. It was the look of a man who had thought he had lost one of the few things he cared about, only to be reunited with them. Seeing his son in tears reassured him that even without his father around, he had been raised properly, into the man he always wanted his son to be.

He looked up at the sound of the doors opening and his son walked in, supporting the woman Aela. They were both filthy, their skin streaked with sweat, blood, and dirt. Bits of leaves and twigs were tangled in their disheveled hair and they wore fur clothing one would normally find on a bandit. Einarr was breathing heavily, each breath coming out like a hiss through his teeth. Aela was clutching her side with a pained look on her face and Thorolf could see blood seeping out through her fingers.

"Someone take her," Einarr commanded, passing Aela over to Athis. "Get her stitched up."

"Einarr, what happened?" Lassarina asked desperately, stumbling a bit when her injured leg buckled beneath the sudden weight. "Did you find them? Are Faolan and Lyanna all right?"

Einarr went over to a chair and sat down, grabbing a tankard and downing its contents with a few mighty gulps. Thorolf could tell something was wrong with him, a suspicion Einarr himself confirmed when he pulled up his shirt a bit and poured some water on a mean looking burn.

"Gods damn it!" he shouted when the cool water touched the wound.

"Einarr, let me heal you," Avyanna offered, walking over, her hands glowing golden.

"Nay, see to Aela first. She lost a lot of blood."

The scarlet-haired woman nodded reluctantly and followed Athis as he led Aela downstairs to the living quarters. Thorolf turned to his son, extremely concerned, and Lassarina was grilling him for information. The poor woman looked desperate, her chest heaving and her voice cracking with every word she spoke.

"Einarr, please, please tell me what happened," she begged. "Where are Faolan and Lyanna?"

Einarr took a few deep breaths, refusing to look at her before answering. "We couldn't find them . . ."

Lassarina had gone stiff and was staring at her brother, confused. "What do you mean you couldn't find them?"

"They were waiting for us on the road. A whole group of them, soldiers _and _mages. They completely ambushed us. It's a miracle we got away with the few wounds we received."

"Why did you come back? You should be out there looking for them!"

"Aela was severely wounded, Lassarina! She could have bled out!"

"You both obviously changed! She could have healed by eating one of them!"

Thorolf's eyes went wide just from the insanity behind Lassarina's last statement. _Eating one of them? One of the Thalmor?_

Einarr glanced over at him before shooting a warning look to his sister. "Lassarina, I know you're upset right now, but think before you speak."

But she was too hysterical to listen to him. "You abandoned them, Einarr! They still fucking have my children and you let the Thalmor take them further away from me!"

Vilkas stepped forward and grabbed his wife shoulders. "Lassarina–"

"Why did you come back?" she screamed, pulling away from Vilkas's hold and punching Einarr in the face.

"Lassarina!" Vilkas shouted, completely wrapping his arms around her and pulling her away as she continued to fight and kick out her legs.

"He let them get away with Faolan and Lyanna! They're gone! He left them!"

"Lassarina, I'll find them!" Einarr swore, standing up. "But I couldn't let Aela die! I don't care how long it takes, I am going to find them!"

"Nay! How can I believe a word you say? You swore to bring them back safely when you left! Where are they, Einarr? Where the fuck are my children!"

"Lassarina, you need to calm down!" Vilkas barked at his wife. "Yelling at Einarr isn't going to bring Faolan and Lyanna back any sooner!"

And with those words, Thorolf watched, in complete silence and shock as Lassarina crumpled in her husband's embrace, sobbing hysterically. She didn't seem to care that everyone in the hall was staring at her, but he could tell they understood. She was a mother who had her children taken away from her. It was a pain that no one could understand unless they personally experienced it. Thorolf felt a similar grief when he was taken from his family and as he stared at Lassarina he couldn't help but wonder:

_Was Freyja this heartbroken too?_

* * *

_I watched a perfect freak out scene in this one show where an FBI agent had to go up to this mom and tell her that the bad people got away with her son. Really helped with writing Lassarina's reaction._

_Hope you enjoyed the chapter, please **Fave/Follow/Review! **Getting your reviews always makes me smile!_


	6. Chapter 6

_You guys... are going to freaking HATE ME... Not my longest chapter but something big is happening._

_Hope you enjoy this chapter! This is Book Four of my series! **Full Moon, Walk in the Shadows, and Sovngarde Beckons **are the prequels in that order._

_Please remember to **Fave/Follow/Review! **_

_Musical Inspiration for this chapter: Don't Speak by No Doubt, This Love by Maroon 5_

* * *

******Chapter Six**

******(2********nd******** of Rain's Hand, 4E 205)**

Lassarina stared at the flames in front of her, listening to the wood crackle and pop. Her brother had returned the day before only to tell her that he didn't get Faolan and Lyanna back, and now she felt even more numb than she did before. Someone could walk right up to her and shove a dagger into her stomach and she probably wouldn't even flinch; in fact, she'd more than likely welcome that dagger.

_Stop thinking like that! _She scolded herself. _How are you supposed to get the twins back if you're dead?_

"I need to get better," she whispered. "I need to get out there and look for them."

Vilkas was already getting started on that. He and Einarr had been hovering over several maps of Skyrim, trying to determine where the Thalmor could have taken their children. The Thalmor prison would be too obvious, as would the embassy and Solitude. Thorolf had no doubt that there were more secret bases scattered all around Skyrim and that they would have to infiltrate all of them and look for information, whether it be found or forcibly extorted from Thalmor agents. But they also needed to work on removing the Dominion from Skyrim. Lassarina had been going to just let Ulfric handle it, but now it had become personal.

_I want to look into Elenwen's eyes the moment her heart stops beating._

A knock on the door made her look up from the flames and she stared at it for a moment, her hand tightening around the handle of her dagger.

"Rina, it's me, Anna," Avyanna's voice called out.

Lassarina let her shoulders relax and walked over to the door, unlocking it and letting her sister-in-law come inside. Avyanna had brought her son Kellen with her, and Lassarina got a good look at the boy for the first time since she got back. The last time she had seen Kellen, he had been a tiny thing, but now the five-month-old was a lot bigger. She couldn't help but feel an ache when she thought about how much Avyanna's son looked like Faolan, just with hazel eyes. Hazel eyes that were currently focused on her.

"He's gotten a lot bigger," she told Avyanna with a forced smile.

"Aye, he has," Avyanna replied awkwardly. "I would have left him at home, but Farkas is helping Vilkas, and while I trust Rohan to look after Trystane, I don't think he's quite ready to take care of Kellen."

Lassarina nodded and walked back to the chairs beside the fire pit, sitting right back down and staring into the flames once more. She could feel Avyanna watching her, but the woman said nothing as she walked over to the other chair and sat down, sitting Kellen on her lap.

"How are you feeling?" she finally asked. "Is your leg better?"

"It aches and stiffens up when it's too cold," Lassarina replied, rubbing her knee.

"Are you doing all right? I know it must be hard for you to be here."

"I keep expecting Faolan or Lyanna to call out for me, asking for a sweet or crying about something silly." She propped her elbows on her knees and hid her face in her hands. "I expected them to be here when Vilkas and Einarr rescued me from that prison."

"You'll get them back, Lassarina. The Thalmor won't hurt them."

"How could you possibly know that?" she snapped, tearing her hands away from her face and glaring at Avyanna. "They tortured me, and they wanted to use me. What makes you think they wouldn't hurt an innocent child?"

Avyanna frowned and her hold on Kellen tightened. "I don't know if they would hurt a child, but thinking negatively isn't going to help anyone. You just have to believe that Faolan and Lyanna are safe or you'll drive yourself mad with worry."

"That's easy for you to say, Avyanna! You have your kids with you! They haven't been kidnapped like mine have!"

"How dare you!" Avyanna's eyes blazed and she rose to her feet. "You think I'm not heartbroken over Faolan and Lyanna too? They're my niece and nephew, and I love them both as if they were my own children! Do you know how hard it was after we thought you died? Farkas and I were overwhelmed with Trystane and Kellen, but we still took care of them too!"

Lassarina felt extremely guilty at that moment. "Look, Avyanna, I'm sorry I snapped; I'm just feeling so helpless right now, not knowing anything about Faolan and Lyanna. I appreciate you and Farkas helping out Vilkas–"

"Helping out Vilkas? Hah! That's a laugh!"

"What do you mean?"

Avyanna sat back down, her face twisted in an angry scowl. "Lassarina, for the past four months, Farkas and I, Tilma, and your brother were the ones taking care of Faolan and Lyanna while your husband drank himself stupid! And after Vilkas finished sleeping off his hangover, he'd start drinking all over again! I don't care how torn up he was, thinking you were dead, it was no excuse to neglect the twins the way he did!"

Lassarina stared at Avyanna in complete shock. Granted, she knew Vilkas would have been depressed thinking that she had been dead those four months but she never thought that he would neglect the twins. He loved their children more than life itself. He barely slept the first week after they were born, just to make sure they were safe.

"He neglected them?" Lassarina repeated. "How?"

"He never paid any attention to them, Rina. He would lock himself in the bedroom and completely ignore them! They were desperate for attention, constantly crying–Farkas and I had to step in and bring them home with us."

Lassarina pressed a partially clenched fist to her mouth and released a breath around it.

"Lassarina?"

"Avyanna, could you please leave?" she asked her as calmly as she could. "I need to be alone right now. I need to think about this."

Avyanna just stared at her for a few moments, completely silent. The only sounds to be heard were the crackle and pop of the fire and Kellen's babbling. Finally, Avyanna got up and left the house, leaving Lassarina alone with her thoughts and her anger.

**oOo**

When Vilkas stepped inside Breezehome late in the evening, the fire in the pit had died down to a few pitiful embers. Lassarina was nowhere in sight, so he assumed she had gone upstairs to their bedroom.

"Lassarina?" he called out.

She didn't reply, but as he approached the stairs, he could hear movement coming from the bedroom. Vilkas climbed up the steps and walked over to the bedroom door, which was wide open. Inside, he found his wife dressed in her Nightingale armor, an angry glare in her eyes as she hastily threw things into an empty pack on top of the bed.

"Lassarina, what are you doing?" he asked her, confused.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" she snapped. "I'm packing."

"Why are you packing? We haven't figured out where to start searching for the twins yet."

"That's why I'm going to find people who _can _figure it out. I'm going to Windhelm, then Riften. I have the power to find them, so I'm going to use it."

Vilkas sighed, but walked over to the dresser. "Fine, let me just get my things together–"

"Nay, I don't want you to come with me."

He paused and looked at her. "What do you mean?"

"Did you not hear me, Vilkas? I said I don't want you to come with me."

Vilkas stared at his wife in confusion. He couldn't understand what was wrong with her. He knew that she was angry and depressed over their children being taken—he felt the same—but why was she venting her anger at him?

"Lassarina, what is wrong with you?" he asked her. "Why are you angry with me?"

She stopped packing and looked directly at him, her pale-blue eyes like shards of ice. "You're really asking me that? After what you did?"

"What I did? Lassarina, what are you talking ab–"

"You neglected our children for four months?"

If time could stand still, it did so in that exact moment. Vilkas forgot how to breathe, how to think; his mouth kept opening and closing, trying to form words, but not a sound came out. All he could do was listen to the blood roaring in his ears as he stared at his furious wife. How much did she know? Who told her?

"Avyanna," Lassarina said, as if she had guessed what he had been thinking. "She told me that for the last four months, she and Farkas had been taking care of _our _children because their _father _was too busy drinking himself to death!"

"I thought you were dead, Lassarina!" he snapped. "Do you know how hard that was on me? Do you have any idea how I felt when a guard came here to our home and said there had been an accident? I had to stand there and watch them pull what I thought was your broken and burned corpse out of that building!"

"And you think that makes it okay?"

"I felt like I was suffocating from my grief! That pain, thinking I had lost you forever . . . I had to wake up in this bed every morning expecting you to be sleeping right beside me, only to get slapped with the harsh reality that all I had left of you was your ring and your scent on that pillow, which got staler every single day."

"My ring and my pillow were all you had left of me?" she echoed harshly. "What about our fucking _children_, Vilkas? As I recall, we made them _together_!"

"Aye, our children," he spat. "Our children that had your eyes! Lyanna alone is the spitting image of you! Every day for the first month, they were constantly asking where you were, when you were coming back! I couldn't look at them, let alone answer them. How do you explain to a two-year-old that their mother is dead?"

"You couldn't look at them, so instead you decided to lock yourself in your room and drink until you forgot you even had children? What kind of a father does that?"

"One who was grieving for the wife he thought had died!"

"I didn't die!"

"We thought you did, Lassarina! The body had been burned beyond recognition but it was wearing _your _ring and _your _armor! It was confirmation enough."

"Aye, you assumed I died because the body had a fucking ring on it! That didn't prove anything, Vilkas!"

"That ring is one of a kind and you know it! You'll never find another moonstone ring with three pale sapphires on it anywhere in all of Tamriel!"

Lassarina scoffed and threw a shirt at his head. "Even if I did die, that's still no excuse for having done what you did!"

Vilkas pulled the shirt off his head and tossed it to the side angrily. "Oh, you're one to talk! I seem to recall you disappearing for six months because you couldn't deal with your grief!"

"That was di–"

"You didn't know how to deal with the miscarriage, so you started drinking heavily and then you fucked the first man who came up to you!"

Vilkas regretted the words the moment he said them, but he couldn't stop himself from continuing. Not even the look of horror and shock on Lassarina's face could stop his anger-fueled rant. "And then when alcohol wasn't enough for you, you teamed up with some piece of shit drug dealer and got addicted to skooma!"

"Shut up!" she screamed at him.

"Did you fuck Finverior too when you ran out of gold to buy skooma? Did you?"

Lassarina's face was twisted with anger and she walked right up to him, her hand swinging at him. He heard the slap echo around their bedroom before he felt it. His wife had struck him hard. He could feel his cheek burning and tasted a bit of blood on his lip where it must have scraped against a tooth.

"How dare you?" she whispered.

Vilkas scoffed and turned away.

Her hand grabbed his wrist and yanked him back and then she slapped him again. "Don't you fucking walk away from me!"

"Then don't make me sound like a bad parent when you did the same exact thing as me when things got too tough for you!"

"Those two situations were _nothing _alike, Vilkas! We didn't have children when I disappeared! In fact, we had just lost one! I didn't neglect anyone! I didn't _abandon _anyone!"

"You abandoned me!" he snarled. "Three times now since we've known each other, you've run off and abandoned me! This last one may not have been intentional, but the first two were! Three times I've had to feel the pain of losing you, of thinking I'd never fucking see you again!"

"So you think that drinking yourself senseless and ignoring your two children is all right?" She pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You were all they had left! You should have been there for them, telling them it was going to be all right!"

"You don't fucking get it, Lassarina!"

"Oh no, I get it! I married a man who can't be there for his children during a rough time! You emotionally abandoned them!"

Vilkas's anger was starting to build to dangerous levels and he felt like he was going to snap any second. "Lassarina . . . enough."

"You always said that you didn't want to end up like your father, but that's exactly what happened! You're just like Jergen!"

That was the final push. "Shut the fuck up!"

Vilkas turned to the small table they had in the corner of the room. Grabbing one of the chairs he flung it against the wall, hard enough to break on impact, and then smashed his fist on a dirty plate on the tabletop. It shattered beneath him, the shards cutting into his skin and making him bleed. He grabbed a second plate and threw it on the floor. He didn't care that he was breaking everything, he needed to vent his anger on something or he might vent it toward his wife.

She knew the severity of the insult, having listened to him throughout their marriage confess his fears of being a bad father. By putting him on the same level as the father that abandoned him and Farkas, she was both getting a reaction out of him and confirming his fears. It was the reason why Vilkas was reacting so strongly to the accusation, because it was true. He _had _been a bad father. He _had _abandoned his children. It may not have been physically, like Jergen had, but emotionally. He had blatantly ignored both Faolan and Lyanna, and now he had to live with the guilt of what he'd done. He looked over his shoulder at Lassarina and saw she hadn't moved and was glaring at him, her eyes watery.

"How dare you compare me to that worthless man?" Vilkas growled.

"How can I not, Vilkas?" she cried. "You always went on and on about how Jergen was a terrible father for abandoning you and Farkas. When I was pregnant you were constantly worrying that you'd be a bad father because of him, and when the twins were born, you swore to them that you were going to be a good father and always protect them and be there." Her words mixed with a sob and she paused to take a deep breath. "You didn't keep that promise."

"I never thought I would have to raise them alone, Lassarina."

"Really?" she scoffed. "We live in Skyrim. We're both Companions and I'm a thief _and _Dragonborn on top of that. Not to mention I'm Ulfric Stormcloak's younger sister. I might as well have a target painted to my back!"

"What do you want to me to do?" he shouted, turning to glare at her.

"Nothing . . . I don't want you to do anything."

He watched her shoulders slump and she sat on the edge of the bed. His wife looked like she had no strength left. Vilkas's gaze slid to the pack in the center of the bed.

"What happens now?" he asked her, slightly terrified of what her answer may be.

Lassarina took a deep breath. "I'm going to go to Windhelm and Riften . . . and I don't want you coming with me."

Vilkas winced. "What does that mean for us?"

"The man I married wouldn't have neglected his children the way he did," she explained, getting up and pulling her wedding ring off her finger. "I can't be with the man in front of me right now."

Vilkas stood there dumbstruck as Lassarina walked up to him and placed the wedding ring he had crafted for her in his hand. He had spent months looking for those sapphires, making sure the shade was just right so it would match her eyes perfectly. Those weeks in Riften he spent rehabilitating her and helping her kick her addiction to skooma, he was also trying to figure out the perfect way to ask her to marry him. Everything had been painstakingly planned so that moment would always be remembered as one of the greatest days of their lives. She had loved the ring from the moment she laid her eyes on it and now she was giving it back to him?

"You're leaving me?" he asked, his voice a shocked whisper.

"I can't be with you right now, Vilkas," she said, her voice cracking as tears began to run down her face. "Knowing what you did . . . I was never afraid to die because I thought if I did, that our children would have their father. Clearly I thought wrong."

Vilkas let the ring fall from his hand as he grabbed her shoulders, hunching over so their eyes were at the same level. "Lassarina, please, don't do this."

Her tears were streaming down her face faster and she turned her head. "Nay . . ."

He cupped the side of her face with a shaking hand and kissed her then, desperate to show her how much he loved her so she wouldn't leave, but her soft lips weren't reciprocating, their only movement the quivering that accompanied her tears. He pressed his forehead against hers as tears of his own formed in his eyes.

"Lassarina, please don't end this."

She let out an anguished sob and turned her head away. "Please, don't."

Vilkas fell to his knees and hugged her waist, hiding his face against her belly and kissing it. "Don't leave me. I'm begging you. I love you too much."

"I love you too, but I just can't be around you right now. I need some time away." She drew in a shaking breath and threaded her fingers through her hair. "Don't make this any harder."

"How can I not? You're leaving me!"

Lassarina shook her head and pulled away from him, walking back to the bed and closing up the pack before swinging it onto her shoulders. Vilkas stood up and glared at her.

"You always talked about wanting our children to have the childhood you never had. One with _both _of their parents in their lives. How will we give them that if you leave, Lassarina?"

"How can we give that to them when they aren't here? My children are missing, and I'm not going to sit around anymore. I'm going to look for them and take them back."

"And after that? Then what? How will we explain to our twins why their parents aren't together anymore?"

"We can tell them I left because their father neglected them!"

Vilkas's temper flared again and he bared his teeth at her. "Fine. You know what, Lassarina? Go! Just fucking leave! It's what you're good at!"

Lassarina opened her mouth to shout back at him, but quickly closed it. Whatever insult she was about to say died and more tears fell from her eyes. She gave him one final anguished look before she walked past him and out their bedroom door. Vilkas stood right in that spot, listening to her move around downstairs for a few more moments. The kitchen for food, the weapons rack for her ebony swords, the plaque above the door where he had hung her bow when they returned from the prison. It was quiet for several moments before he finally heard the door open and slam shut.

The sound caused Vilkas to snap once again and he turned to the table, grabbing one edge and violently turning it over. Everything that was on it crashed to the floor, shattering if it was fragile. Once the table was out of his way he started to punch the wall repeatedly, splitting open the skin of his knuckles and shouting and crying out in the midst of his anger and grief. How did everything go so wrong so fast?

Their marriage had been fine before the Thalmor had intervened. They had loved each other and couldn't be happier. He still loved her. He wanted nothing more than to run out of the house after her and bring her back, but he knew his wife and knew that she wouldn't. She was too angry and hurt right now to even look at him. Vilkas had thought their marriage would be strong enough to endure this.

Clearly he was wrong.

* * *

_Every marriage has a rough patch... This is Lassarina and Vilkas's rough patch._

_Hope you enjoyed the chapter, please **Fave/Follow/Review! **Getting your reviews always makes me smile!_


	7. Chapter 7

_I got an Elder Scrolls Online BETA key so I'm gonna be off the radar until Monday! WOO HOO!_

_Also, FYI, there's no divorce in Skyrim. Only death can end a marriage._

_Hope you enjoy this chapter! This is Book Four of my series! **Full Moon, Walk in the Shadows, and Sovngarde Beckons **are the prequels in that order._

_Please remember to **Fave/Follow/Review! **_

_Musical Inspiration for this chapter: I honestly just listened to my station on Pandora_

* * *

******Chapter Seven**

******(3********rd******** of Rain's Hand, 4E 205)**

"She did _what_?" Einarr exclaimed slamming down his tankard in shock.

Farkas pinched the bridge of his nose and repeated what he said. "Lassarina left Vilkas. She packed up her things and left the city last night. Vilkas damn near destroyed the house. A guard had to come and get me so I could calm him down."

"Why would she leave?" Thorolf asked curiously. "I haven't known either of them long, but from what I've seen, I can tell that man is completely devoted to her."

"She may have found out about how neglectful Vilkas had been to the twins when we all thought she was dead."

Einarr groaned and ran a hand across his face. "How did she find out about that?"

Farkas frowned and lowered his gaze. "Anna told her. . . . She thought Lassarina deserved to know. She's still pissed at Vilkas over his behavior."

_This is not how I wanted the day to go, _Einarr thought to himself.

The day had barely begun. He had only woken an hour ago and dressed so he could join his father for breakfast. Thorolf had told him how he woke early in the morning to avoid how crowded the dining hall became when the other Companions came up to eat and started waking up earlier himself so he could sit with him and catch up. Everything was already stressful enough without piling this onto their troubles.

"Honestly, I think our mother dropped her as a child, because she keeps doing stupid things," he growled. "Did she stop to think that the Thalmor could be hunting her down again? She shouldn't be alone."

"She sounds as headstrong as Freyja was," his father commented.

"Headstrong, just another word for stupid."

"She told Vilkas she was going to Windhelm and then Riften," Farkas told him. "It looks like she went on foot, though. I checked the stables, and all the horses were still there; and the carriage driver needed to get a wheel replaced, so he isn't able to go anywhere for a few days."

"Good, if I take Ally I can probably catch her and bring her back."

Einarr stood up and reached for his new dragonbone greatsword, when Kiraya ran upstairs with a note in her hand. He didn't need to know who it was from and just took it from his daughter, quickly reading it over. Once he read the messy scrawl of his sister's handwriting, he sighed and looked at Farkas.

"She took that blasted wolf."

**oOo**

"Good boy, Fang," Lassarina praised the gray-brown wolf as he brought the rabbit she had just shot and killed.

Fang dropped the body at her feet and wagged his tail as he laid down on the ground while Lassarina yanked the arrow out of the rabbit's eyes and got to work skinning it. Once she was done with her task, she'd cook up the haunches and let Fang devour the rest. She wasn't very hungry if she was being perfectly honest with herself, but she needed to keep her strength up if she was going to be searching for Faolan and Lyanna.

"Here you go, boy," she murmured, tossing the rabbit's entrails on the ground for Fang, who happily gobbled them up. "I doubt you need any more food, though. You've gotten fatter."

Fang licked his chops and looked at the rabbit she was still cleaning, a high-pitched whine rising from his throat. She smiled a bit and cut off the haunches before tossing the rest of the carcass to him. As she set to work cooking the meat, she sat on the ground beside her pet wolf and scratched his neck while he ate.

"You know what we're doing, right?" she asked him. "The Thalmor took Faolan and Lyanna, so we're going to find them and take them back. I didn't want to travel alone, so that's why I brought you. It'll be just like old times."

Fang's ears twitched, showing he was listening, but he seemed far more interested in the rabbit he was tearing into. She wished her beloved pet could talk back to her; it was starting to get hard to keep her emotions contained. Her mind was still whirling from what happened the day before. She had actually left Vilkas.

_Stupidest thing you have ever done! _a part of her brain shouted at her. _You love that man to death and you left him! Why do you always do stupid things like that without thinking? Why do you always run?_

The answer to that was because running was always easier; it was always what she did. Ever since she was a little girl, when things got too complicated or scary, she would run away from the problem and avoid it for as long as possible. She ran to Brynjolf when she was being bullied by a boy at Honorhall, she ran to the woods when her adopted brothers were looking for her, she ran to Brynjolf again when she caused Farkas and Vilkas to have a fight, she ran from her life when she miscarried her son, and now she was running from Vilkas again because she couldn't deal with the knowledge that he had neglected their children.

_You didn't run from your destiny, _a rational part of her mind said. _When you and Einarr had to face Alduin, you could have run, but you didn't._

Lassarina scoffed and shook her head. "Not true. Einarr and I avoided our destiny for three years. The gods sent our own mother to possess his daughter, just so we would do it. I didn't have a choice that time. I couldn't run."

_Just go back! Tell Vilkas you're sorry and that you didn't know what you were thinking! It's not too late. Go to him!_

"I can't . . . I can barely stand to look at him right now. Nay, I need some time away from him. Time I could spend finding my children."

_And what happens when you do find them? Will you and Vilkas still be separated? _

"After I find Faolan and Lyanna, we'll talk things out. Maybe before . . . I don't know."

The rabbit haunches finished cooking, and she quickly ate them up. Once she and Fang had finished eating, Lassarina kicked dirt over the small fire she built the night before and moved to the main road, heading north. If she wanted a better chance at finding her children, she needed more than just her husband and brother helping. She needed the Stormcloak army and the Thieves Guild. The Guild's far-spread network would give her eyes and ears in every major hold in Skyrim, and Ulfric's army would be the brute force she needed to take her former captors down.

She had been walking for a few hours when Fang's ears pricked up and the wolf stopped to look back at the road behind them. Lassarina turned as well and groaned when she saw the familiar sight of Einarr's brown mare riding towards them. Crossing her arms over her chest, she waited for him to catch up and glared at him when he was beside her.

"What were you thinking?" Einarr growled at her as he dismounted his mare.

"That I should have taken one of the horses when I left yesterday," she muttered. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I'm here to try and bring my idiot sister back to Whiterun."

"Aye, that's not going to happen," she waved dismissively as she started walking again.

She heard Einarr growling in frustration behind her as he followed, leading his horse by the reins. "If it's because of Vilkas, you can stay in Jorrvaskr. I won't force the two of you back together."

"Good, because after what he did, some distance is the best thing for the both of us. But I'm still not going back."

"Why not?"

"Because if I go back, I'll be stuck in Jorrvaskr for days on end, going mad with worry for each day we don't find Faolan and Lyanna. I'm not going to sit around wasting time when I could be doing something about it."

"And what exactly is it that you're going to do, Lassarina?"

"I'm going to use what resources I have to find my children. My thieves will become my eyes and ears and Ulfric's army will be my boot, poised to kick down Thalmor doors."

"So what, you're going to join Ulfric's army? You do realize that by doing that you'll lose any neutrality you had in this war."

"I don't care, Einarr. A mother will do anything to get her children back safely, and I'm desperate. I trust the Companions with my life, but there just aren't enough of them to search Skyrim for two children."

"Then just use the Thieves Guild! You have fences in every city; that should be enough!"

"And when it comes time for a fight, they'll all be decimated. They're _thieves, _not soldiers. The only ones in the Guild that would be able to handle themselves in a full-on, head-to-head fight are Thrynn, Vex, Brynjolf, and _maybe _Vipir. We don't bloody our blades if we don't have to."

She glanced over her shoulder and saw her brother running his hand across his face. He was clearly frustrated, and she could tell that his patience was running thin.

"Look, I know you don't like Ulfric and you never approved of me being a thief, but I need to do anything and everything in my power to find Faolan and Lyanna, Einarr. Wouldn't you do the same if it were Kiraya?"

Einarr winced and looked at her with a defeated expression. "You know I would," he sighed. "Fine, but I'm going to take you. No sense walking all the way there when you can ride with me."

Lassarina smiled and walked over to Einarr, mounting the saddle and sitting behind him once he was on. Fang would run along beside them, but she was worried that the domesticated wolf might have trouble keeping up with Ally now. She asked Einarr not to push the horse too hard so that Fang could keep up, and he did so.

"So what was going through your mind when you left Vilkas?" her brother asked when they stopped to make camp in the evening.

Lassarina stiffened for a brief second before answering, "The same thing that always goes through my mind when something bad happens. Run."

"You'd run from your husband, a man who is completely and utterly devoted to you?"

"I didn't think, Einarr, okay? I was too angry at him to think clearly. The only thing that kept me sane while I was imprisoned was knowing that at least the twins had Vilkas. Then I find out in those four months, he could barely look at them."

"He was depressed. I've never seen a man look more lost than Vilkas did in those four months. It's like part of him died with you."

Lassarina could barely believe that her brother was defending Vilkas. "You're actually standing up for him?"

Einarr sighed and poked at the fire with a stick. "I can see where he's coming from. When Faraya died, I didn't think I'd be able to keep on living. The only thing that pulled me out of my depression was my responsibility to Kiraya."

"How can you see where he's coming from when you did the exact opposite and devoted all your time into your child?"

"Because I can understand what it's like to look at your child and only see their mother. I confronted Vilkas over the situation months ago, and he told me that all he could see when he looked at the twins were your eyes. Having them around was constant torture for him. He may have handled his grief the wrong way, but I'm sure he's been regretting it for a while now."

"How would you know?"

"I left Kiraya when she was two so that I could look for you. I basically abandoned her for seven years, Rina. There's not a day that goes by that I don't regret the decision. Every time I look at her, there's a little part of me that is constantly chastising myself for what I did. When we get the twins back, Vilkas will live with that guilt every day."

A tear had formed and rolled down her cheek during their conversation, and she hastily wiped it away. Einarr hadn't been fooled, though, and was now looking at her sympathetically.

"You already regret it, don't you, little sister?"

Lassarina bit the inside of her cheek and blinked rapidly to force back her tears. "Aye, I do. I still love him, even after what he did. But I still think some time apart would be good for us right now."

"Just promise me you'll sit down and talk to him next time you're together."

She hesitated, but nodded. "Aye, I will."

**oOo**

They reached Windhelm just after sunset the next day, and Lassarina pulled on her mask to avoid any confrontation with the guards. She didn't need to be escorted to the palace like every other time she'd been in the city. Many of the guards and citizens she and Einarr passed on their way there recognized her brother and greeted him as 'the mighty Dragonborn,' much to his annoyance.

"It's been like this ever since we defeated Alduin," he growled to her softly. "Everyone and their mother know who I am, and I fucking hate it."

"You never were one for attention," Lassarina chuckled, pulling her hood up as it began to snow.

"Nay, I prefer to sit alone in the dark corner than in the center of the room, present to everyone."

"Why, Einarr, you almost sound like a thief. We prefer to stick to the shadows too."

Her brother rolled his eyes and the walked the rest of the way in silence. The guards standing by the large double doors of the palace didn't give them any trouble, although they eyed Fang warily, and they stepped inside the warm main hall. The large feast table that stood in the center of the room was covered in food, but as usual only a few soldiers sat there eating. Lassarina's eyes moved to the stone throne that her brother should have been sitting in, but it was empty. She did, however, see Jorlief standing beside it.

"Let's go ask Jorlief where he is," Lassarina told her brother.

The jarl's steward was already eyeballing them as they approached and took a step back when he saw the large wolf walking beside her. "Gods damn it, why must you always bring a wild animal with you?"

The question had been directed at Einarr, since the steward was looking right at him, and her brother rolled his eyes. "He's tame and you know it. Now, why don't you do your job and fetch Ulfric for me."

"And why would I do that? You've made it perfectly clear that you're no friend to Jarl Ulfric."

"Jorlief, just do what he says," Lassarina sighed, pulling down her mask and revealing her face.

Jorlief's jaw dropped and his eyes went wide at the sight of her. "Y-you're alive! Assa spoke the truth!"

"Don't stand there gawking!" Einarr snapped. "Get Ulfric!"

Jorlief jumped and practically ran to the war room. Once he was gone, Einarr chuckled and had a satisfied smile on his face.

"The one joy I get from being famous," he told Lassarina. "When I'm angry I can make people jump right out of their boots."

"I do that all the time with the footpads in the Guild," Lassarina told him. "It's fun, isn't it?"

"Lassarina?"

She turned at the sound of Ulfric's voice. Apparently her half-brother had been in the war room with Galmar, who stood a few steps behind him. The look of shocked relief on his face made Lassarina start to realize exactly how much her supposed death had affected the people in her life. She and Ulfric weren't particularly close–only exchanging letters and short visits whenever she'd been in Windhelm in the past–so if he was this relieved to see her, she could only imagine what some of the Guild had gone through when the news of her "death" spread. Even Galmar looked relieved to see her alive and well, and Galmar _did not _like her.

"You really are alive," he almost whispered.

"Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated," she joked.

Ulfric closed the distance between them, hesitating for only a moment before pulling her into an embrace. It was tense at first, but Lassarina quickly relaxed and rested her head on Ulfric's shoulder as he patted her back. When he pulled away, he still held her shoulders and looked her up and down.

"You look a little worse for wear," he muttered. "Your hair is shorter too."

Lassarina's hand touched the shortened locks, hanging just below her jawline, and openly grimaced. "It got burned in the fire I supposedly died in."

"One of our soldiers returned a few days ago," Galmar said, walking over and grasping her shoulder, squeezing it in a gesture of welcome. "She said that the Dragonborn had been imprisoned with her in a Thalmor prison."

"Aye, Assa spoke the truth," Einarr told them. "Vilkas and I attacked the prison ourselves to rescue Eorland Gray-Mane's son, Thorald. We found your soldier locked up there along with an Argonian courier, and my own father."

Ulfric and Galmar's brows rose and they looked at Einarr in shock.

"Your father is alive?" Ulfric asked.

"Aye, the Thalmor held him prisoner for twenty-seven years," Einarr replied with a frown. "They kept him alive because they thought he could be useful to them."

"Why would the Thalmor want a common man like him?" Galmar sniffed.

Lassarina rolled her eyes. "Einarr's father and our mother were living here under false identities to hide from the Thalmor, Galmar. His father was the son of the last Grandmaster of the Blades."

"Leif Windblade's boy?" Galmar huffed and tucked his thumbs into his belt. "I never met his son, but I did meet Leif during the Great War. Damned shame, the Thalmor robbed Tamriel of a good man. I heard rumors that his son fled Cyrodiil with his tail between his legs before the war even started."

Einarr's eyes narrowed and a growl rumbled in his throat. "Disrespect my father like that again, Galmar."

"Enough," Lassarina stepped between them, her eyes sharp as daggers. "We didn't come for petty arguments."

"And why did you come?" Ulfric asked, his brow perked in interest.

Lassarina turned to him, letting the desperation in her eyes show. "I need your help, Ulfric. When Einarr and Vilkas brought all of us back to Whiterun, the Thalmor had already been there. They took Faolan and Lyanna."

Ulfric exchanged a look with Galmar and they both released troubled sighs.

"It's safe to assume the Thalmor took them so the Imperials have Windhelm secured if the war turns in their favor," Einarr said, his voice low and bitter.

"And they would be right," Ulfric nodded with a troubled frown, "if Faolan and Lyanna had a claim."

"Or Lassarina, for that matter," Galmar added.

Lassarina furrowed her brows in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Ulfric wouldn't look at her. "When we heard you had died it made me realize that if my younger sister who is half my age can die, then I needed to make some changes to secure Windhelm on the off chance that I die too." He took a deep breath and finally met her eyes. "You remember Galmar's oldest daughter, Urska?"

"Aye, I also remembering hearing that you two were romantically involved. Why?" She suddenly froze and her eyes widened. "Wait, is she?"

Ulfric nodded. "She is."

Lassarina's whole body was tense with anger and she wanted to rip her hair out. "Gods damn it!"

Einarr already had a clear idea of what was going on. "You knocked her up?" He scoffed and looked at Galmar. "You must not have been all too happy to hear about that, huh, grandpa?"

"I love Ulfric like a brother and a son," Galmar spat. "I'm glad she's with him and not some smart-mouthed, disrespectful, ass like you."

"How far along is she?" Lassarina demanded.

"Jora says about two months," Ulfric told her. "We were planning on getting married soon."

"Nay, you can't marry her yet, and no one can know she's pregnant."

Ulfric glared at her. "And who are you to give me those orders?"

"The mother of your only niece and nephew that are currently Thalmor prisoners! Think about it, Ulfric; if you and I are dead, Faolan and Lyanna would be next in line. If the Thalmor learn that you have an heir, one of two things will happen. Either they'll kill Urska _and _your child, or they'll kill my children and _take_ Urska and your child. I don't think you want to risk either scenario, do you?"

Galmar's eyes were filled with anger and concern at the thought of his daughter's life in danger, and he turned to Ulfric. "As much as I hate agreeing with your sister, she's right about this. The Thalmor are looking for any excuse to weaken you, Ulfric."

"Then what do we do?" Ulfric asked, his nostrils flaring.

"Simple," Lassarina spoke up, her voice strong and determined. "I join your army, we rescue my children, and we kick the Thalmor out of Skyrim."

**oOo**

Einarr woke in the middle of the night to his stomach rumbling ravenously. He had been so exhausted from the trip to Windhelm that once Ulfric had Jorlief give them rooms for the night, he had just collapsed in the large plush bed and passed out, completely missing out on dinner. Now he was regretting that decision as he climbed out of bed and pulled his shirt and boots back on before leaving the guest room. Walking down the silent halls, Einarr found himself being guided toward the kitchens by memory alone. While it had been a long, _long _time since he had lived in Windhelm, he still remembered the year he had lived inside this very palace for a whole year.

He and his mother had been comfortable in their small home in the Gray Quarter–playing with the Dunmer children there had been one of his fondest memories as a boy. But the moment his mother had learned she was pregnant with Lassarina, Fjrokvar insisted that they both move into the palace. His mother had been reluctant, but eventually agreed since she realized she would need help when it came time to give birth to his sister. Einarr hadn't been very comfortable living in the palace– the guards wouldn't speak to him, the steward was rude, and his mother was always telling him to be nice to Fjrokvar (something he had been extremely reluctant to do). But the worst part of moving into the palace was that all of his friends in the Gray Quarter had stopped speaking to him, having come to the untrue conclusion that he thought he was better than them.

But he did remember how much fun he had exploring every inch of the palace. He had spent a lot of time in Fjrokvar's armory, secretly trying on helmets and pretending to be a mighty warrior who fought bandits and slayed dragons. It was only now as he thought back to his games that he saw the irony that his life had turned out exactly as it had in his imagination.

_Though I'm pretty sure I never once saw myself marrying a Khajiit, _he thought to himself with a chuckle. _Glad I did, though. We were happy, even if it was for a short while. _

As he opened the door to the war room, his superior hearing picked up on two voices quietly talking in the main hall. Walking closer to the hall that connected the two chambers, he recognized the voices as Lassarina's and Ulfric's.

"–was merciless," he heard Lassarina murmur. "She didn't even ask me any questions. She didn't want to interrogate me, she just wanted to torture me."

Einarr squeezed his eyes shut as he realized his sister was talking about her four months of captivity.

"How did you get over it, Ulfric?" she continued, her voice catching.

"Who said I had gotten over it?" Ulfric chuckled bitterly. "To this day I still have nightmares over everything I endured."

"The lashings–"

"The beatings–"

"The brandings," the both said at the same time.

Einarr opened his eyes and risked a peek into the main hall, seeing his sister and Ulfric sitting at the large table side-by-side. He held back the growl that was threatening to slip past his lips and caused by the topic of their conversation.

_Why is she sharing what she went through with him? _he thought angrily. _She hasn't even told me what happened, and we're closer than they are._

"You were branded too?" Ulfric asked her.

"Aye," his sister answered. "On my left shoulder blade. Where did they brand you?"

Einarr saw Ulfric pull down the collar of his loose linen shirt and revealed an old burn scar in the shape of an Amulet of Talos right above his heart. He had seen an identical one on his father's lower back the day after he and Vilkas rescued everyone, and it made him queasy just thinking that his little sister had suffered something so painful. Something Ulfric had experienced too.

_Maybe that's why she's sharing it with him, _the rational part of his mind thought. _Maybe she didn't tell me because she didn't think I'd understand._

"I'm just glad you're alive, Lassarina," Ulfric told her. "I promise, we'll get Faolan and Lyanna back and we'll drive the Thalmor out of Skyrim. They won't be able to hurt anyone else ever again."

"Just promise me I can be there when we cut Elenwen's head off," Lassarina muttered, her voice filled with blinding rage.

Einarr frowned and backed away, heading back to his room and locking the door behind him. Why did he have a bad feeling that this war was going to bring out an ugly side of his sister? And why didn't he feel the need to stop it?

* * *

_Uh Oh. Einarr is jealous over Lassarina and Ulfric bonding!_

_Hope you enjoyed the chapter, please **Fave/Follow/Review! **Getting your reviews always makes me smile!_


	8. Chapter 8

_So, The Elder Scrolls Online Beta was freaking awesome! I completely fell in love with it right away and drove over to Gamestop to preorder the Imperial edition while the server was under temporary maintenance. I spent $100 but I'll be getting so many perks out of it, including that fabulous Molag Bal statue! I'm going to place it right next to my desk and he's going to watch me while I play. _

_Anyways, this chapter is mostly Ulfric and Einarr talking. I wasn't too happy with how I wrote this chapter, but I guess I was overthinking it since my Beta Reader seemed to love it. She said Einarr and Ulfric's back and forth made her laugh._

_Hope you enjoy this chapter! This is Book Four of my series! **Full Moon, Walk in the Shadows, and Sovngarde Beckons **are the prequels in that order._

_Please remember to **Fave/Follow/Review! **_

_Musical Inspiration for this chapter: Leave me Alone by Michael Jackson, Slap by Ludacris_

* * *

******Chapter Eight**

******(6********th******** of Rain's Hand, 4E 205)**

The next morning when he woke up, Einarr saw the day going a specific way. He would eat some of Ulfric's food, speak with his sister for a little while, and then he would get on his horse and head back to Whiterun where he would organize the Companions to search for Faolan and Lyanna. It would have been the way he preferred things to go. But instead, when he got out of bed and opened the door, he found Ulfric standing there, poised to knock.

Einarr openly groaned and glared at the man. "What do you want, Ulfric?"

Ulfric returned the glare. "I thought we could talk."

"Now why in Oblivion would I want to do that?"

"Look, Einarr, I know you don't care for me, but like it or not, we share a sister and have to get along to some degree."

Einarr scoffed and leaned against the door frame. "I tolerate being in the same room as you for a short time. I think that's good enough."

"For the love of Talos, could we just sit down for a time and talk like two grown men?"

He stared at Ulfric for a moment or two, trying to figure out what the man could possibly want. They had never gotten along in the past, and Einarr had become comfortable with the set neutrality between the two of them. They tolerated each other mainly for Lassarina's sake, since she was making an effort to be close to both her brothers. But he and Ulfric shared no blood and there was no obligation for them to like each other, so why in Oblivion did he want to talk now?

"Fine," Einarr finally grumbled as he stepped away from the doorway. "I guess come inside."

Ulfric nodded and stepped into the room. Einarr closed the door behind him and walked over to the small table by the large fireplace. He poured himself a tumbler of Colovian brandy, guessing he was going to need something to relax him before this conversation was over.

"Want one?" he asked the jarl.

Ulfric nodded and took the tumbler Einarr poured for him. "Thank you."

Both men sat down at the table and sipped their drinks in silence. The tension in the air was thick as a foggy day in Morthal, and it was putting Einarr's wolf spirit on edge. Right as he was about to snap, Ulfric spoke up.

"You still hold a grudge for me banishing your family, don't you?"

"I do," Einarr stated simply.

"I apologized, though."

"Doesn't change what you did. Doesn't take back all the shit my family went through because of it."

"Einarr–"

"Did Lassarina ever tell you that we saw your father in Sovngarde?"

Ulfric's eyes widened. "My father?"

"Aye, and he told our sister something very interesting. He left a letter to you before he died, asking you to take care of my mother and Lassarina. He said that had he lived, Lassarina would have been raised here in Windhelm. Fjrokvar moved my mother and me into this very palace. We only moved out after he died."

"You–you know about the letter?"

Einarr nodded. "We both know. I'm surprised Lassarina hasn't demanded to see it. I wonder what else it said."

Ulfric shifted uncomfortably and Einarr saw the grip on his glass tighten. "Look, about the letter–"

"I'll bet you probably destroyed it a long time ago, so don't worry, I'm not going to ask for it."

"Then what in Oblivion do you want from me? I've already apologized."

Einarr gave him a cruel smile. "For argument's sake, why don't you try apologizing again?"

Ulfric scowled and gave him a look of fury. "I never thought you could be so petty."

"Being wrongly banished can do that to a person," Einarr shrugged, swirling his brandy.

For several moments, Ulfric just glowered at him before releasing a long breath. "Fine, you enormous ass. I'm sorry for banishing your family from Windhelm, it wasn't right, especially when my father's final request was for me to look after Lassarina and your mother."

Einarr drank the rest of his brandy in one huge gulp and poured himself another tumbler full before replying, "I don't forgive you."

The glass in Ulfric's hand shattered and he rose to his feet. "Then what the fuck do you want from me?"

Einarr took a sip and just stared up at Ulfric. He enjoyed that he was the one who made the jarl snap and get this furious. The man was too pissed to even notice his hand was bleeding badly. It was satisfying, even if it was petty of him.

"I want you to live with the guilt, Ulfric," Einarr told him, his voice calm but angry. "I want you to die knowing that our sister suffered a good amount of her life and it was all your fault. She lost her mother, grew up in an orphanage, was adopted by an abusive family and had to kill one of them while he was raping her. It's your fault, Ulfric. She didn't have to have that life, but because of you, she did."

"And where were you when all this happened to her?" Ulfric spat.

"They sold me off to a Khajiit caravan days after my mother died! I couldn't help her even if I wanted to because I was across the border days later! I might as well have been dead, since she lost me and mother in a matter of days!"

Ulfric's eye winced and he turned away. Einarr tossed a rag from the table at him for his hand. The fact that he had effectively shut the man up was satisfying, but the scent of blood was starting to overwhelm him and perk his wolf's interest.

"Wrap your damned hand, man," he growled. "You're dripping blood everywhere."

"My home, I can get blood on the floors if I want," Ulfric muttered, but wrapped his hand in the rag.

"So then, you'd ignore me if I asked you to leave?"

Ulfric sat back down, keeping pressure on his wound. "Aye, because we're not finished talking."

"Then please speak quickly. I've exhausted my ability to tolerate being around you."

"You're a real ass, you know that?"

"Only according to you, my jarl."

He watched Ulfric bite back a retort and close his eyes, taking several deep breaths before opening them again. Einarr knew he was wearing down Ulfric's patience and that he had already won the argument they were having, but he couldn't stop busting the man's balls. His grudge was rooted too deeply within him.

"All right," Ulfric said finally. "The reason I wanted to talk to you has to do with Lassarina and the war. I don't think it's the best idea for her to be seen in my ranks."

Einarr's brows rose in surprise. "For once, we're on the same page, Ulfric. I told her joining your army was idiotic."

"Hang on, I never said her joining was a bad idea. I said her being _seen _in my army was a bad idea. Having the Dragonborn support my cause is invaluable."

"So, what? You're going to have her stay here in Windhelm? No offense, but that's more idiotic than her enlisting." He set down his glass of brandy and leaned forward. "Her children were taken from her, man. She's not going to be complacent and just sit here in the palace twiddling her thumbs. Our sister is one of the most stubborn women in Skyrim, and she's determined to go out there and find Faolan and Lyanna herself."

"I wasn't going to ask her to stay here in the palace. I have something else in mind for our sister that could be useful in driving the Thalmor out of Skyrim. But let's not get off subject again; I have a proposition for you."

Einarr could already guess what that proposition was. "I'm listening."

"Join the Stormcloaks–"

"Nay."

Ulfric's eyes narrowed. "Would you hear me out first?"

"Be quick about it."

"I need the people to see that the Dragonborn has picked a side. You've stayed out of this war as long as you could, but it's time for you to make a decision, and I doubt you'll ally yourself with the Imperial army when they have the Thalmor on their side. This war has become personal now, Einarr. Those Thalmor bastards kidnapped our very own blood. We may not be brothers, or even friends, but we _are _uncles to Lassarina's children.

"That being said, all of Skyrim thinks that Lassarina is dead except us and the Thalmor. I think it would be best if they continue to think that; that way Lassarina can move about freely and do what needs to be done. No one will know she's among our ranks, not even the soldiers."

Einarr held up a hand to stop him. "There's already a huge flaw in your plan. All of Whiterun knows Lassarina is alive. A rumor like that will spread across Skyrim quickly."

"Not quickly enough for the Thalmor to be worried."

"Are you an idiot?" Einarr snapped. "Are you even listening to what you're saying?"

"Aye, I am. Lassarina will be presumed dead by the rest of Skyrim, a death we can now confirm was caused by the Thalmor. Everyone will rise up against the ones who robbed the land of the woman who defeated Alduin, especially when her brother, the man who struck the final blow to the World-Eater, is rallying the people."

Einarr scoffed and shook his head. He should have known that Ulfric wouldn't be happy with just one Dragonborn on his side,; he had to have both of them.

"And why would I join the Stormcloaks?" he asked.

"Because this war needs to end, and you're the only one who can end it," Ulfric told him plainly. "Everyone respects and looks up to the Dragonborn. If you take up my cause, this war can end quickly. I've been trying to win for years now and am no closer than I was four years ago."

"I've already said I want nothing to do with this war of yours. I'm Harbinger of the Companions and have remained neutral; I'd like to keep it that way."

"Don't you get it? It's gone too far and you can't remain neutral any longer. Any neutrality you had vanished the moment Faolan and Lyanna were taken by the Thalmor! You can't find the twins alone."

"I'm not alone. I have the Companions."

"And how much help will that be? Maybe ten people searching Skyrim? That's not enough, Einarr! You don't have the resources to pull this off!"

"You already have Lassarina; you don't need another Dragonborn."

"And I can't advertise that to the rest of Skyrim," Ulfric growled. "Think about it from this angle. What if the Thalmor catch wind of Lassarina fighting for the Stormcloaks? Do you think they'd keep the twins here? They'll take them across the border, and who knows if we'd ever see them again?"

Einarr fell silent. He hadn't thought of that, not even once. It did make a lot of sense, though. The Thalmor were fully capable of getting Faolan and Lyanna out of Skyrim at a moment's notice. They had kept his father imprisoned for nearly thirty years and if they felt threatened, the twins could be gone that long too.

_Damn it . . ._

"All right, you have a point there, but I still have problems with your 'cause,'" Einarr grumbled.

"Like what?"

"Say you win this war, then what? Skyrim will have a racist man for their High King. Nords will be on top and the other races will get the short end of the stick. You have no respect for anyone that isn't Nord. I can't swear my blade to a man like that."

Ulfric stared at him for a moment before nodding. "Then why don't we set up some terms so that we can achieve a mutual partnership?"

Einarr picked up his brandy glass and took a long sip. "What kind of terms? And will I be able to add some of my own?"

"Aye."

"Okay, then I'll start. _If _I join your army, and _if _you become High King, you need to swear that you will treat everyone in Skyrim _equally._ I'm not going to let my daughter feel like a she's a second-class citizen when I've worked too hard to make her confident in herself."

"I never planned to treat anyone any differently, no matter what their race."

Einarr rolled his eyes. "Aye, I'll believe that when you fix up the Gray Quarter. It's fucked up that the Dunmer in _your _city live in such terrible conditions."

Ulfric shrugged a shoulder and glared at him. "All of the city's treasury is going into war efforts."

"For a pointless war."

"Fine, when we've won the war, I promise to fix up the Gray Quarter. But you have to speak at the moot once the war is over. I'm not going to to just take the position of High King; I'm going to let the other jarls have a voice in choosing Skyrim's next ruler."

"I can agree to that, if you can agree to give me a voice in the war room."

"I had planned on that. Despite us not getting along, your opinion is valuable. You know how the common folk think."

Einarr smirked. "Aye, I know what the majority of the population thinks of you."

If that bothered Ulfric at all, he let it slide for the moment. "You have to swear your loyalty to the Stormcloaks and publicly speak in my favor."

"I won't speak in your favor, but I will speak out against the Thalmor. They're the only common ground of hate between the two of us. I want them gone just as much as you do, believe me." He finished off his brandy and was beginning to feel a pleasant buzz in his head. "I don't want to fight with your men, though. I work better with people I trust."

"Then you can assemble your own team of people you prefer."

Einarr nodded, satisfied with that. "Good, I already have two people in mind, but that can come later." He thought long and hard for a minute, trying to come up with another term to their agreement. That's when it hit him and he spoke confidently, "All right, my final term: Lassarina and any of her children will have no claim to Windhelm. Ever."

"Urska is already pregnant with my child; any claim she and her children had are gone."

"You never know, something could go wrong," Einarr said quietly, ducking his head.

"I'm sorry, was that a threat?"

Einarr glanced up and gave Ulfric a pained look. "Nay, I'm just speaking from personal experience. I wouldn't wish anything as bad as losing a loved one on anyone, not even my enemies."

Ulfric's glare immediately turned into a frown."I'm sorry," he murmured.

Einarr shrugged, guessing Ulfric had remembered he had lost his own wife in childbirth. Einarr was lucky he still had Kiraya, but that didn't replace the scar left in his heart. "We were too far from a town or a healer. There wasn't anything that could be done except save Kiraya." He shook his head. "Those are all my terms; do you have any more?"

Ulfric nodded. "Aye, just one. Elenwen is mine. I want to chop her head off myself."

"You might have to fight Lassarina for that privilege."

"I don't think she'll mind so long as we get her children back." He leaned forward and looked him in the eyes. "So what do you say? Will you join the Stormcloaks?"

Einarr hesitated in that moment. He had gone through the whole process of setting up terms, and he really _did _want to make the Thalmor leave Skyrim. He didn't have any problems with the Imperial army, if he didn't count Helgen when they tried to execute both him and Lassarina. He doubted that the Imperials even knew what the Thalmor had done, or had been doing all these years. Who knew how many people they had kidnapped or killed? It had to stop.

"As much as I don't like you, this war _does_ need to stop," he said finally. "The Thalmor have hurt Tamriel too much and need to be stopped. So, aye, I'll join. But just know this Ulfric. In no way does this make us friends."

**oOo**

When Lassarina opened the door to her room, she was shocked to see Ulfric leaving Einarr's room right across the hall. The jarl didn't see her as he moved down the hall toward the war room, so once he was out of sight she walked over to her brother's room and let herself in. Einarr was sitting at the small table beside the fireplace, a tumbler of brandy in his hand and a sour expression on his face. A closer inspection of the surrounding area revealed shards of glass all over the floor at his feet and drops of blood staining the stone.

"Gods, Einarr, you didn't get into a fight with Ulfric, did you?" she groaned, walking over and looking him over for any blood.

"Nay, he just broke a glass and cut up his hand," Einarr replied, his eyes getting that foggy look they got whenever he started to get drunk.

Lassarina looked over at the bottle of brandy and saw that half of it was gone. Brandy was the one type of alcohol that got Einarr drunk really quickly, and the Colovian brand was really strong. Sitting down in the chair across from him, she shook her head and glared at him.

"Don't you even think about riding back to Whiterun until you've sobered up," she hissed.

"Aye, I won't, now stop nagging me, woman," he growled, tipping back his head and drinking what was left in his glass.

"Why was Ulfric in here?"

"He wanted to talk to me about joining the Stormcloaks."

She scoffed and shook her head. "I guess he didn't realize you'd never–"

"I said I would."

Lassarina's eyes widened and she looked at her brother in disbelief. "You joined? But . . . why? You despise Ulfric!"

Einarr shrugged a shoulder and frowned. "I did it for you and the twins. He said he needed the people of Skyrim to see that the Dragonborn has finally picked a side."

"But _I'm _Dragonborn too! I'm Ulfric's gods-damned sister; the people already assume I'm on his side! You don't need to get involved, Einarr!"

"Nay, I do need to get involved. The Stormcloaks need a Dragonborn to rally the people, but that can't be you. If the Thalmor catch wind of you having joined the Stormcloaks, how long until they make the twins disappear like they did with my father?"

She gasped and covered her mouth with a hand. That thought hadn't crossed her mind when she left Whiterun to ask Ulfric for help. She just assumed that the Thalmor would keep the twins in Skyrim and patiently wait for the Imperial army to win the war. But now that Einarr mentioned it, what _was _stopping them from taking them somewhere else? Somewhere she wouldn't ever be able to get to them?

"And just what am I supposed to do?" she demanded. "Stay hidden away and let other people do what I should be doing? I refuse to do that, Einarr! I need to help find my children!"

"Ulfric said he had something else in mind for you," he explained. "He didn't tell me exactly what that was, but it's probably better than fighting out in the front lines. No offense, Rina, but you're not exactly a soldier."

Lassarina glared and rose from the chair, stalking out of Einarr's room and slamming the door behind her. Ulfric had a lot of nerve, plotting all of this behind her back. Well, he wasn't just going to get away with it. She stomped through the hall and down the stairs, practically kicking down the door to the war room and glaring daggers at Ulfric. He had been standing over the map of Skyrim with Galmar and Yrsarald beside him, but was now looking at her.

"Lassarina, what is it?" he asked curiously.

"Plotting the whole war behind my back?" she hissed. "And what is it you have planned for me? Am I going to sit here in Windhelm and take up knitting?"

"Like you can knit," Galmar scoffed. "Or do anything feminine."

She whirled on Galmar and took a predatory step toward him. "Aye, I'd shove those needles into your eyes before I knitted anything!"

"Calm down!" Ulfric spat. "I never intended to have you stay put. The job I have in mind for you is more dangerous than being a simple foot soldier."

Lassarina crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. "Then tell me what that job is right now."

"It's an idea I had last night," Yrsarald spoke up. "I thought back to the times you broke into the palace and robbed Ulfric. You managed to get in and out of here without anyone seeing or hearing you."

"That's because I'm a master thief," she couldn't help but mention smugly.

"And because you can turn invisible," Galmar added dryly. "Or did you forget you did that when we had your drug-withdrawled ass locked up in one of the upstairs rooms?"

"As I was saying," Yrsarald continued, raising his voice to grab their attention once again. "The one thing the Stormcloaks are desperately lacking are spies and scouts. If you can round up a group of your thieves together, you can be our spies and scouts."

_Okay, that actually sounds like a brilliant idea, _Lassarina thought to herself, her shoulders relaxing and her arms uncrossing.

"We receive word of secret Thalmor strongholds and bases all the time, but the majority of them are outside Stormcloak territory," Ulfric said, moving to the map and pointing at small black flags pinned across it. "From the numer of thieves we've spotted or arrested over the years, I'm guessing the Guild is pretty diverse, meaning you can get into the Imperials' territory without any problems and infiltrate these strongholds one by one."

Lassarina moved to the map and counted how many black flags were on the western side of Skyrim. "There's got to be over twenty bases. How are we supposed to infiltrate them all without tipping the Thalmor off?"

"That's a problem you'll need to figure out," Galmar told her. "Maybe you and your _thieves _will come up with something."

Lassarina studied the map for several long minutes before she nodded. "All right, I want a copy of this map and a horse. I'm leaving for Riften."

* * *

_That's right everyone! We're going back to Riften!_

_Hope you enjoyed the chapter, please **Fave/Follow/Review! **Getting your reviews always makes me smile!_


	9. Chapter 9

_This chapter is something I've been excited to write for a few days now. Riften has always been my favorite city in all of Skyrim and for Lassarina it's her one true home. True, she was more than happy to settle down in Whiterun with her family, but Riften will always be the place she grew up and the place that drew her back to Skyrim in the first place._

_Hope you enjoy this chapter! This is Book Four of my series! **Full Moon, Walk in the Shadows, and Sovngarde Beckons **are the prequels in that order._

_Please remember to **Fave/Follow/Review! **_

_Musical Inspiration for this chapter: __Runaway by Linkin Park,__Photograph by Nickelback, __I'll be there for you by the Remembrandts _

* * *

******Chapter Nine**

******(8********th******** of Rain's Hand, 205 4E)**

The guards at the Riften gates didn't need to see her face to know to grant her entry into the city. They took one look at her Nightingale armor and immediately opened the doors, nodding respectfully as she walked past them with Fang at her side. Lassarina was making sure to keep her face hidden after being filled in on Ulfric's strategy to win more support for the Stormcloaks. As long as the rest of Skyrim continued to think she was dead, they'd turn against the Thalmor once the knowledge that they were the ones who "killed" her spread throughout the land. So now she had to remain out of sight, never showing her face publicly.

_I'm just glad I have this mask, _she thought to herself, adjusting the mask of her Nightingale armor.

It was past sunset, so the streets were virtually deserted, except for the guards that patrolled with torches in hand. While they eyed the wolf beside her warily, they were smart enough not to say anything about him. She quietly made her way to the graveyard, pausing briefly in front of the mansion that formerly belonged to Mercer Frey but now served as a bunkhouse for the Guild's thieves. Looking at the manor brought back memories of when Vilkas and Finverior stayed with her to help her get over her addiction to skooma. It was also where Vilkas asked her to marry him for the second time.

_Vilkas . . ._

She squeezed her eyes shut at the thought of her husband and continued to walk toward the graveyard. She couldn't allow herself to think about her problems with Vilkas at the moment, not when she had to think about getting Faolan and Lyanna back. So she passed the Temple of Mara and walked through the cemetery, over to the crypt that served as the hidden entrance to the Thieves Guild. Lassarina stopped for a moment to run her fingers across the carved face of the stone coffin. The diamond symbol of the Guild with a circle in the center; the circle that also happened to be the button to activate the mechanism that moved the coffin back.

"It's good to be back," she whispered to herself as she pressed the button and revealed the hidden entrance.

When she climbed down the small flight of steps and reached for the hatch, Fang let out a high-pitch whine. She turned to her pet and frowned, only then realizing that the Ratway would have been the wiser entrance to take. There was no way she'd be able to carry the large wolf down the ladder.

"Just wait here for now, all right, Fang?" she told the wolf, scratching his ears affectionately. "I'll have one of the men carry you down the ladder."

Satisfied that Fang understood, she moved aside the wooden hatch that covered the ladder and slid down with practiced ease. Lassarina didn't know why she expected the Cistern to look different after four months–maybe it was because those four months felt like four years for her–but part of her was glad to see that it looked exactly the same. The familiarity of the place brought a feeling of comfort, which was something she desperately needed after the past few days.

"Who in Oblivion are you?" demanded a familiar voice by the cooking pot.

Lassarina turned and saw Vipir, Thrynn, and Sapphire staring at her, alarm and hostility in their eyes. She had forgotten that the Guild still thought she was dead, so it was only natural that they'd be suspicious of someone they assumed was a stranger.

"Wait, isn't that Karliah's armor?" Vipir asked, lowering his dagger for a brief moment.

"Nay, she's is in the training room with Niruin; I just came from there," Thrynn growled.

"So I guess I'll ask again," Sapphire muttered, walking right up to Lassarina and holding her own dagger between them. "Who in Oblivion are you?"

"I'm not surprised you'd be hostile," Lassarina sighed, reaching up and pulling down her mask. "You all thought I was dead."

Sapphire's dagger clattered as it hit the ground. The three thieves before her all had identical looks of shock on their faces and had been rendered speechless.

"I expected you all to be surprised," she chuckled softly. "But I also expected some questions. You know like, 'How are you alive?'"

"How _are _you alive?" Thrynn asked, finally coming down from the initial shock. "We were told you died in a fire!"

"Aye, I heard that too, but it wasn't true. I _was _inside the building when it was on fire, but it wasn't my body they found. The Thalmor had planned it so people would think it had been me. No one would come looking for me and they were free to keep me imprisoned for as long as they wanted."

"Wait, the Thalmor imprisoned you?" Sapphire gasped.

Lassarina nodded. "I was locked up and tortured for four months. It's all very dark and traumatizing, but we'll get into it later. Right now I need you to get Brynjolf, Karliah, Delvin, and Vex and bring them here."

"Brynjolf and Delvin are playing cards in the Flagon, but I don't think Vex will be coming," Vipir told her. "She had her baby three months back and has temporarily retired from the Guild. Rune's taken over her responsibilities."

"Then bring Rune over. I need to talk to them right now. Oh, Thrynn, you look strong enough. Could you carry my wolf down the ladder for me?"

"Your what?" the former bandit gaped.

"My wolf. If you're worried about getting mauled, don't be. He won't bite you."

The three thieves nodded, and Lassarina moved across the cistern to the messy desk at the other end. It was all too easy to remember seeing Mercer standing behind it, sneering the moment he looked up and barking out orders left and right. She had never liked the former Guildmaster and was glad he was dead. She saw that someone–probably Delvin–had put several of the rare treasures she had collected during her past jobs on display in the shelves behind the desk. She stood in front of them, admiring and remembering each one: the Queen Bee statue, the Honningbrew decanter, the East Empire shipping map, the model ship, the Dwemer puzzle cube, the bust of the Gray Fox, even the left Eye of the Falmer. Each of them a memory on the road to her becoming Guildmaster.

She had been so lost in her thoughts and memories, she didn't hear the footsteps approach. It was only the familiar and much-loved accent of Brynjolf's that snapped her out of it.

"Is it really you, lass?"

Lassarina's lips curled up in a smile and she turned to face her oldest and dearest friend, standing with the other senior members. They were all equally shocked to see her, but she also saw joy and relief in all of their eyes.

"Hope you didn't get used to being Guildmaster, Bryn, because I'll be taking my position back," she told him teasingly.

Brynjolf laughed and skirted around the desk to pull her into a tight embrace. "Take the damned job. I hated being Guildmaster." His hold on her tightened and his voice broke a bit as he added, "Gods, I missed you, lass. When we thought you died . . . well, let's just say a lot of us took the news harder than others. Especially me."

Lassarina couldn't stop the tears pricking her eyes and blinked rapidly to try and hide them. "You have no idea how glad I am to be back."

Brynjolf was forced to release her when Karliah moved in and practically shoved him aside. The Dunmer woman had tears in her eyes as she hugged her close.

"We thought you had died," she explained in her soft, melodic voice.

"I didn't," Lassarina told her, pulling away and wiping tears away from her eyes.

"Where were you, girl?" Delvin asked, walking over and giving her a pat on the back.

"I was in a Thalmor prison for the past four months. The only reason I'm here now is thanks to pure luck. They'd taken Eorland Gray-Mane's son prisoner too, and Einarr offered to rescue him. He and Vilkas were the ones who found me."

"We haven't been too fond of the damned Thalmor ever since they took Etienne, but now we definitely hate them," Rune muttered angrily.

Lassarina scoffed and the smile that had been on her face was replaced with a scowl. "You can't even begin to imagine how much I hate them. What they've done to me . . ."

"Lass, you don't have to talk about it," Brynjolf told her, squeezing her shoulder. "We're just relieved to see you alive and well."

She reached up to place her hand over his and gave him a sad look before turning to everyone else. "I actually came here for a reason. I have a job and I need help."

"A job?" Karliah echoed. "Lassarina, you were just rescued from a Thalmor prison. Shouldn't you take a break?"

"Aye, I stopped by Whiterun about a month after you had supposedly died," Brynjolf added with a frown. "I went to collect some things-your Nightingale armor and the amulet of articulation, mainly. Vilkas was an absolute mess and threw me out when I mentioned taking your armor. You should spend some time with your family."

"If I had the option to do that, I would," Lassarina muttered tightly. "But I received an unpleasant surprise when I got back to Whiterun. The Thalmor had gotten there ahead of us and they _took _Faolan and Lyanna."

Her senior members went completely silent, simply staring at Lassarina in shock. For a moment it looked like they couldn't understand what had just been said, but then she saw it register on all their faces. Brynjolf and Karliah looked ready to murder someone, while Delvin and Rune just looked furious. The entire Guild had met the twins when Lassarina and Vilkas had come to Riften for Brynjolf's wedding five months ago, and nearly all of them had fallen in love with her precious children.

"What do you need us to do, lass?" Brynjolf asked her, his voice strong and determined.

"I originally went to Ulfric for help, since I didn't want to involve the Guild in any fighting, and we came up with an arrangement," she explained. "The Stormcloaks will help me get my children back, but they won't be able to step outside of their own borders, which is more than likely where Faolan and Lyanna are. That is where we come in. Ulfric asked that I form a team of people to act as spies and scouts. With this map of Thalmor strongholds and bases he provided me with, we'll infiltrate all of them and search for any information that can lead me to my children."

Karliah smirked. "Thieves _do _make the best spies."

"Which is exactly why I came here. Now, I won't lie to you-if you do this, you'll basically be helping the Stormcloak army in this war. I promised Ulfric he can have any information we find that can be used in his favor. I understand that some of you wouldn't want to be affiliated with him in any way, so if you don't want to help, just tell me now."

Lassarina felt her chest swell in happiness when none of them spoke.

"This isn't even about who wins the war anymore," Delvin put in simply. "This is about the Guild finally getting back at the Thalmor for messing with our people."

"First Etienne, then you," Rune added. "And now they have the audacity to take children? They need to be stopped."

"You can always count on us to help you, lass," Brynjolf told her. "No matter how crazy or dangerous the request."

"Thank you," she breathed, extremely relieved that they were on board. "I won't even need the whole Guild. I only really need a few of you." She looked to Delvin. "I'd want you to stay behind and run things when we're gone."

"That's fine wit' me," the bald Breton nodded.

She turned to Brynjolf and Karliah. "Both of you will be coming with me, of course."

Karliah and Brynjolf exchanged a knowing look before the Dunmer turned back and asked, "Who else did you have in mind?"

"Amelia would be a welcome addition. I got to see her in action back in Blackreach and I was impressed." Then Lassarina looked at Rune. "And since you seem to be moving up in the Guild, I'd like for you to be a part of this team as well, Rune."

Rune smiled a bit and nodded his head. "I'd love to help."

"I'll have to talk with Amelia about it, but I don't think she'd say no," Brynjolf said, scratching his chin. "Especially when I tell her that the twins were kidnapped. I had to practically yank Faolan out of her arms when you brought them for the wedding."

"Watch yourself, or soon she'll be askin' you to put one in her," Delvin chuckled.

Brynjolf glared at Delvin and lightly punched his shoulder. "Like there's any way in Oblivion I'd have a kid."

But Lassarina saw the soft look in Brynjolf's green eyes. It was extremely subtle and well hidden, but she had learned how to look for it at a very young age. A slight upturn of the lips, his eyelids drawing together just a bit. It was clear that the man who she saw as a brother and practically raised her after her mother died wasn't all too opposed to the idea of having a child of his own. He seemed to love her own children well enough, and she thought he'd make a great father.

"Did you have anyone else in mind?" Karliah asked her.

"Aye, one other person, but I don't know where he is and I can't waste any time searching for him," Lassarina sighed. "We can make do with the people I've chosen."

Her thieves nodded and then decided to take it upon themselves to welcome her back in the best way they knew how: by drinking. They led Lassarina all the way to the Ragged Flagon, where she was welcomed back with hugs, pats on the back, and mead. Tankard after tankard of mead. It had been months since she'd had a drink other than water, so she decided to indulge herself while she could.

_ Gods know I've earned it, _she thought to herself as she took the first sip of many to come.

**oOo**

It was only after everyone had drunk themselves to the point of no return and left the underground bar that Lassarina decided drinking had been a bad idea. In the past, whenever she consumed too much alcohol she tended to make bad decisions. Alcohol was what made her sleep with Vorstag in Markarth after her miscarriage, and it was also the reason she started taking skooma shortly after that. Her bad decision this time was drinking while struggling to contain her feelings toward her fight with Vilkas.

Ever since Einarr and Vilkas rescued her from the Thalmor prison, Lassarina had been suffering from terrible insomnia and wasn't able to get more than a couple of hours of sleep every night. And what sleep she _did _get was always interrupted by her own screams of terror. The nightmares that plagued her were always the same. She'd be back in that prison cell with a single candle illuminating the area, and standing right in front of her, with flames enveloping her hands, Elenwen would be there, sneering down at her before she started inflicting pain.

She had thought that by drinking, she'd be able to pass out and have a few blissful hours of uninterrupted, drunken sleep, but instead Lassarina was wide awake and staring into her tankard, bleary eyed and depressed. It was well past midnight and Vekel had retired over an hour ago, along with the rest of the Guild, leaving her all alone in the now-silent tavern; her only companion was the tankard in her hands. She would have counted Fang, but her pet wolf was too preoccupied with hunting down the rats that scurried around the Cistern, quickly earning him Vekel's praise since the damned cat he kept for that very job was too lazy to even swat a fly.

_I can't believe I told him he was exactly like Jergen, _she groaned internally.

Out of all the things she could have said to hurt him, she chose the worst thing possible. Lassarina knew how Vilkas felt toward his adopted father. It was a long-standing grudge that had formed the moment the man walked out on the two boys he swore to take care of. It was what drove Vilkas to be a good father when the twins were born, and she always thought of him as just that: a good father. Her husband may be a short tempered man who always seemed to scowl more often than smile, but he poured every ounce of love and devotion he had into their children.

_If he's such a good father, why did he neglect our babies? _the bitter part of her demanded angrily. _You were right to leave him!_

_ He was grieving for us, though, _a rational, regretful part of her argued. _Wouldn't we have mourned just as badly?_

_ We wouldn't have neglected our children!_

_ How do you know that? We always run away when things get too hard for us! We're cowards!_

"Shut up!" Lassarina snapped out loud, willing the voices to be quiet. "I already feel bad enough without every part of me arguing with each other."

_We're _your _thoughts, _the logical part of her mind stated. _We're merely voicing your inner turmoil since you're clearly avoiding any unpleasant thoughts right now. You refuse to let yourself feel anything._

_ Why can't you just let yourself go? _her rational side asked. _You're alone now. Just let your feelings out before you destroy yourself all over again! You can't let yourself fall to harmful vices again!_

Just thinking about those six months after she killed Mercer Frey brought forth the tell-tale craving for skooma. While she hadn't touched the stuff in three years, she still got the urge every now and then. Her hands would start to shake badly and she'd get extremely irritable. But she never allowed herself to give in to her urges and had done a good job staying clean this whole time.

"I'm not going to cave," she whispered to herself, clutching her tankard tightly. "I don't need skooma."

_You say that, but what will you do when you have a vial right in front of you? _her logic asked her seriously.

"Please, just leave me alone," she begged, tears forming in her eyes.

Laying one arm across the table in front of her, she rested her forehead against it and started to cry. It felt extremely liberating, letting all the bottled-in emotion out, but it also made her body and soul ache for comfort. She wished Vilkas was with her, holding her close and stroking her hair like he always did whenever she was feeling down. But he wasn't there, and it only made her feel even more lonesome.

_I'd even take a friend right now, _she thought to herself.

That's when she felt the presence of someone standing behind her. She was about to lift her head up and look over her shoulder to see who it was, when a familiar voice spoke.

"What's wrong, lovely lady? Someone break your heart?"

Lassarina's head snapped up with a shocked gasp, and she practically jumped out of her chair just to launch herself into Finverior's awaiting embrace. Laughter and more tears spilled out of her, and she clutched to the leather vest he wore over his cotton shirt and hugged him tightly.

"You have no idea how glad I am to see you," she murmured into his shoulder.

He abruptly pulled away, both his hands cupping either side of her face right before he pressed his lips to hers. For a moment, she was stunned by the kiss, but was so desperate for any form of comfort that she let it continue. But then Vilkas face flashed in her mind. Lassarina let out a squeak of annoyance and moved her hands to his shoulders, roughly pushing him away.

"Gods damn it, Finverior!" she spat, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Why do you always have to do something like that?"

Finverior flashed her a mischievous grin and shrugged a shoulder. "I can't help that you're gorgeous, Rina. I get you're married and all, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to make a pass at you when I can."

She rolled her eyes and quickly let her annoyance slide so she could hug the Bosmer again. "Surprisingly enough, you were one of the people I really missed those four months."

Finverior's body tensed a bit and he pulled back to look down on her, a sad frown on his face. "What happened? I thought–we all thought you were–"

"Dead," she finished. "Aye, I know. It was all a Thalmor trap. My leg had been pinned underneath one of the wooden beams and they had an easy time taking me. The body that was found, it was just some woman they killed and put my things on."

"So this whole time you weren't dead? You were a Thalmor captive?"

"One that was personally tortured by Elenwen."

Finverior's warm, amber eyes hardened and turned icy in that moment, and his grip on her shoulders tightened to the point of bruising. Back when the Great War was still going on, Finverior had enlisted with the Dominion and worked as a spy and scout for them to divert attention away from his rebel family. It had worked for a while, despite his family casting him out for it, but in the end the Dominion had killed them and had Finverior left with a dishonorable discharge.

"Should we break into the embassy and slit her throat while she sleeps?" he asked her, his voice harsh and angry.

"As much as I would _love _to do just that, it would be a bad move," Lassarina sighed, shrugging Finverior's hands off and taking a seat at the table again. "Instead, you can tell me why you're here in Riften. Last I heard, you were visiting your bed warmer in Winterhold."

Her friend took a seat across from her and actually looked a bit embarrassed. He was chewing on the end of his thumbnail, something he always did when he was withholding some juicy gossip, and his eyes had a shifty look to them. Lassarina brought her tankard to her lips to hide the smirk on her face.

"Well," he murmured, looking down at the wooden table. "I came here to, uh, well . . . I kind of, sort of got . . . married."

Lassarina spit out the bit of mead in her mouth all over Finverior's face and began coughing madly. "You–" *cough cough* "– got married?"

Finverior had an annoyed look on his face and he wiped the mead off. "Yes, I got married. To Onmund, in case you were wondering."

She still couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You, _Finverior, _the man-whore of Skyrim?"

"Yes, me, Finverior, the man-whore of Skyrim." He sighed and pushed his shoulder-length red hair away from his face. "Look, Rina, when we thought you died, it affected all of us. It made me realize how sad and lonely my life really is."

"Your life isn't sad, Finn."

"Really? Because after you died, I couldn't think of one reason to stay in Whiterun. I spent so much of my life being cast aside, I never got a chance to form bonds with anyone. Even all the women I knocked up don't want anything to do with me, except for a bit of gold every now and then. There's only a handful of people I give a shit about in this freezing country, and you're one of them. When you died . . . it made me reevaluate my entire life. I don't want to be the man who can't even remember the name of the person he wakes up next to anymore."

"And so you decided to marry Onmund?"

"Well, I didn't change overnight," he amended. "At first I started going to Winterhold to see my uncle. Not counting my kids, he's the only family I have left. Onmund and I started getting to know each other a bit better, and I popped the question about a week ago. We got married early this afternoon and spent the rest of the day in our room at the inn. I went down to the bar to grab a bottle of anything and overheard one of the thieves telling Talen-Jei that you were back. I came down to confirm it, 'cause frankly, I didn't believe it at first."

Lassarina smiled a bit and reached across the table, taking his hand in hers. "Sometimes I don't believe it myself."

"You look like shit, if I may say."

She let out a huff. "Aye, I know. I haven't really slept. I keep thinking that I'll wake up in that prison cell again and that my escape was just a dream." She frowned and felt a painful pang in her chest. "Freedom was supposed to be a dream come true, but the Thalmor turned it into a nightmare."

Finverior squeezed her hand in comfort. "The nightmares will go away soon enough, honey."

"Nay, they won't, Finn. Being free _is _the nightmare. I thought everything would go back to normal the minute I got back to Whiterun, but the Thalmor ruined any chance of that happening when they" -she paused to control the sob that threatened to escape- "when they took Faolan and Lyanna."

Finverior's eyes widened and he jumped up from his seat. "They did _what_?"

She looked him in the eyes and repeated it again. "They _took _Faolan and Lyanna. Einarr and Vilkas were the ones who rescued me and the other prisoners from the Thalmor prison. When we got back to Whiterun, the guards said someone broke into our house, killed Tilma, and took the twins!"

Her Bosmer friend swore loudly and kicked over the nearest chair in his fit of anger before grabbing one of the many empty bottles lying around the tables and throwing them against a stack of crates by the water. She watched in silence, feeling numb inside the entire time as she patiently waited for him to get it out of his system. Despite being one of the most lecherous men she knew, Finverior was actually very fond of children and surprisingly good with them. Whenever he came around the twins, he would always fawn over them with attention and play with them or make them laugh with his silly faces and tricks. Lassarina suspected he was attached to her children because he never really got a chance to raise his own, so she was more than happy to let the Bosmer find some joy through her children.

When Finverior finally calmed down enough to sit back down, he turned his smoldering gaze to her. "When do we go out and get them back?"

"That's actually part of the reason I'm here," Lassarina told him. "I went to Ulfric for help first, and he'll give it, but he also said I'm better suited for spy and scout work rather than being a foot soldier. Plus it wouldn't be good for the twins if the Thalmor learned I joined the Stormcloaks."

"No, it wouldn't. If they're still in Skyrim, they'd be moved the second they learned you had an army behind you."

"Exactly, which is why he asked me to put together a team of people I trust to help me infiltrate several Thalmor bases that they've heard about over the years. I'll be able to secretly search for the twins and provide the Stormcloaks with intel that could potentially help drive them out of Skyrim. I had hoped that you would be part of that team, since you know how the Thalmor think, but I wasn't going to waste time traveling to Winterhold."

"Well, you don't need to go to Winterhold. I'm right here and I'm going to help."

Lassarina frowned. "But you just got married. Won't Onmund be mad?"

Finverior shrugged. "He'll understand once I explain it to him. Besides, he needs to return to the college anyway. He doesn't graduate until the fall." He grabbed her tankard and took a long sip from it. "Though, I've got to say, I can't see Vilkas doing any sneaking around successfully."

When she lowered her gaze, she knew she had tipped him off that something was wrong.

"Rina, what is it?"

"Vilkas isn't here," she told him.

"What? What do you mean he isn't here? Where is he?"

"He's back in Whiterun. He's not going to be helping me with this."

"And why in Oblivion not?" her friend demanded. "You're his wife! They're _his _children! What could he possibly be thinking?"

"He's probably thinking what a bitch I am," she murmured sadly. "I am the one who left him after all."

Finverior arched a brow at her, confused, but then some clarity came to his eyes and he glared at her. "Gods damn it, woman. What did you do now?"

"What I always do. I couldn't deal with my problems so I ran away."

He sighed heavily and ran a hand across his face. "All right, let's hear it. Why did you leave this time?"

"Avyanna told me that he neglected Faolan and Lyanna those four months you all thought I was dead. I never thought he would do something like that. I just got so mad at him, and I left that night. I already regret it . . ."

"He was fucking depressed, Lassarina. What did you expect him to do? Completely forget about you and act like you _didn't _die?"

"Nay, but–"

"But nothing! Give the man a fucking break! He was so torn up over your death that he didn't leave the house for days! He refused to let anyone in and just stayed locked up in there with the twins. He didn't even come to your funeral. I was the one that ended up lighting the pyre."

She was stunned into silence by the harsh tone of his voice and just stared at him, wide eyed like a child being scolded by her parent.

"That man loves you more than anything, idiot! He loves you more than your brother loves you, shit, even more than _I_ love you!"

Her eyes widened even more. "You what?"

"What? Is it that surprising that I love you?" he scoffed. "Listen, you dumb bitch, you and I have been through too much for me _not _to feel anything for you. It's not even a romantic thing; I love you like family, like a sister or a daughter. I would do _anything _for you; just say the word."

Lassarina ducked her head and clutched at a tuft of her short hair. "I– I don't know what to say."

"Fine, then I'll tell you what to do. You're going to watch me finish this mead and then you're going to promise me that you're going to deal with this problem the first chance you get. No more running away, Lassarina, understand?"

"Aye . . . I understand." She looked up and glared at him. "You're a real ass, you know that?"

He smirked at her and finished the mead. "Of course I know that. I'm fucking Finverior."

* * *

_When I told BrunetteAuthorette99 how I was going to reunite Lassarina and Finverior, she was super psyched at the method. Did anyone notice that the first thing he said to her in this chapter was also what he said to her when they first met? Also, how many of you saw him getting married? LMAO! Finverior, the Man-Whore of Skyrim! I also discussed the whole love between Finn and Rina with Brunette and we agreed that there are feelings there between the two of them. They're each other's best friend and they'll always be there for each other and love each other._

_Hope you enjoyed the chapter, please **Fave/Follow/Review! **Getting your reviews always makes me smile!_


	10. Chapter 10

_Another point A to point B chapter. Einarr needed to go back to Whiterun really quick to settle his affairs before going off to war after all._

_Hope you enjoy this chapter! This is Book Four of my series! **Full Moon, Walk in the Shadows, and Sovngarde Beckons **are the prequels in that order._

_Please remember to **Fave/Follow/Review! **_

_Musical Inspiration for this chapter: Scream and Shout by will. _

* * *

******Chapter Ten**

******(8********th******** of Rain's Hand, 205 4E)**

Einarr rode Allie right into her stall in the Whiterun stables just to get out of the pouring rain for a few minutes. Dismounting the mare, he pulled off the hood of his cloak, muttering under his breath how it didn't keep him dry at all. The storm had hit them about an hour ago and he had been forced to push his mount a little harder than he liked. Wringing some of the excess water out of his hair, he got to work on settling Allie down. The dark-brown horse was clearly exhausted, breathing heavily and tossing her mane every so often to shake off some of the water clinging to her.

"Sorry I pushed you, girl," Einarr murmured soothingly to her as he gently massaged her neck. "How about I get Skulvar to include some carrots and apples to your feed?"

Allie snorted and pawed the ground with one hoof. The mare was one of the best things Einarr had purchased over the years, and he grew more thankful for her every day. Not only was she sweet and mild tempered, but she was also extremely intelligent and even knew how to help him out in a fight. She had been a bit wary around him when he'd taken the beast blood, but she had gotten used to it over the years and it didn't seem to bother her anymore.

"All right, I'm going to go pay your board for the month, and I'll be back tomorrow," he told the horse, giving her one last pat on the neck. "So you just spend the rest of the day relaxing and doing whatever it is you do when I'm not around."

Pulling the hood of his cloak back on, Einarr jogged over to Skulvar's house and banged on the door, sticking close to the wall to try and keep out of the rain. The door opened after a moment and Skulvar's son, Jervar, stood in the doorway.

"Dragonborn, what brings you to our house?" Jervar asked as he stepped aside and motioned him to come inside.

"Jervar, please, I've told you a thousand times before, it's Einarr," he sighed.

"Sorry."

"It's fine. Anyway, I'm here to pay for Allie's board for the month. Where's your father?"

"Right here," Skulvar announced with a yawn as he stepped out of one of the nearby rooms. "Einarr, it's good to see you." He looked him up and down. "You weren't riding out in that, were you?"

"I was coming back from Windhelm and the storm caught us," he chuckled as he pulled out the pouch of coins he had set aside the night before. "Two hundred and fifty septims, like always, and an extra fifty for some apples and carrots."

Skulvar took the pouch and set it on the nearby table. "I'm glad you're here, Einarr. I've been meaning to talk to you about your mare."

Einarr arched a brow. "What, is something wrong with her? She seemed fine on the road."

"Oh, she's fine, I actually wanted to talk to you about breeding her."

"Breeding her?"

"Aye, Queen Alfsigr is one of the best horses I've ever bred, and I was wondering if you'd let me breed her with one of the stallions."

Einarr clenched and unclenched his hand a couple of times and frowned. "The timing is a little bad, Skulvar. I'm going to be constantly riding in the coming months."

"Aye, which is why I'd offer you one of the younger horses to use in the meantime. I only ask now because she's at a good age for it."

Einarr sighed and shrugged a shoulder. "I'll think about it. I'll give you my answer tomorrow."

He left the small house after that and trudged up the sloping road to the Whiterun gates. He made his way through the city as quickly as possible, sparing a quick glance at Breezehome as he passed it. Part of Einarr wondered how Vilkas was handling the separation, and he made a point to stop by and see his brother-in-law before he headed back to Windhelm. Just because the two weren't together at the moment didn't mean Vilkas didn't have a right to know what was being done to get the twins back and it didn't mean that it should affect their friendship.

Stepping into Jorrvaskr, Einarr welcomed the warmth of the constantly burning firepit and removed his cloak, hanging it on a hook on the wall. Last thing he wanted was to anger Tilma by dripping puddles everywhere. He stiffened when his mind quickly corrected him, reminding him that Tilma wasn't with them anymore. It still didn't feel real, but the caretaker was dead and the thought of never seeing her wrinkled smile again brought a stabbing pain to Einarr's heart.

"Einarr!" shouted a small voice accompanying the stomping of feet.

By this point it was a reflex for Einarr as he turned and quickly crouched with his arms open to catch Randulf as he tackled into him. He replaced the frown on his face with a smile as he lifted the three-year-old boy up and ruffled the messy mop of black hair on his head.

"You're wet," Randulf pointed out, grabbing onto a lock of dripping hair.

"Aye, I am," he chuckled as he walked over to the tables where Aela had been sitting. "Were you and your mother eating?"

"_I _was eating," Aela sighed. "But Randulf was being stubborn and picky."

"I don't like fish," Randulf grumbled.

Einarr set him down in the chair beside his mother and gave him a stern look. "Randulf, how do you expect to grow up into a big and strong warrior if you don't eat your food?"

"But it smells funny!"

"But it tastes good," Einarr added as he leaned over the chair, cut a piece of the salmon steak and brought it to his mouth. "See? I like it."

Randulf regarded him with his pale-green eyes for a moment before pinching his nose and bringing a piece of the salmon to his mouth. Einarr and Aela watched him as he chewed for a moment and then swallowed it.

"Good job, lad," Einarr said, ruffling the boy's hair. "You keep eating and Kiraya and I will join you once I've changed out of these wet clothes."

"Actually, Kiraya went to Farkas and Avyanna's with Rohan," Aela informed him.

Einarr was a bit annoyed by that. He had been hoping to spend some time with Kiraya before he returned to Windhelm, but it seemed like his daughter cared more about spending time with her friends than with her father. The fact that the friend was a boy wasn't making him feel any better, either. With a resigned sigh, he headed downstairs to his room and changed into something dry. When he stepped out of his bedroom, he was surprised to see his father sitting down at the small table of his anteroom.

"Did you find your sister?" Thorolf asked him with a worried frown.

"Aye, I took her to Windhelm and then she left for Riften," he replied, taking a seat beside him. "She's going to do whatever it is she needs to do to get her kids back."

"She's fighting the Thalmor all alone, Einarr. It's unlikely she'll be able to force them out of Skyrim on her own."

"She's not alone in this, Da. I'm going to help her, and even if we don't drive the Thalmor out, we'll at least get her children back."

His father stared at him for a moment before nodding. "I can already see you have a plan."

Einarr arched a brow and smirked at him. "What makes you say that?"

"You've got that same look in your eye you used to get as a boy when you're plotting something. It's how your mother knew you were up to no good."

Einarr chuckled and shook his head. He had always wondered how his mother seemed to know exactly what he was about to do before he did it, and it seemed like it was his own damned fault. Pushing a few damp strands away from his face, he stretched his back and got up.

"I should get back upstairs," he sighed. "I promised Randulf I'd eat with him and Aela. Want to join us?"

"Aye, I would like that," Thorolf nodded as he slowly got up to follow.

Einarr was pleased to see that his father was already starting to look a lot healthier and stronger than he had when they found him in the prison, but he still had a long way to go till he was back to full strength.

"That Aela," Thorolf said as they walked. "You two seem . . . close."

Einarr gave his father a strange look. "Aye, we are. What of it?"

"She's very pretty, albeit a bit intimidating when you first meet her. But you two seem like a good match."

Einarr froze in his tracks and stared at his father, his eyes wide. "Wait, you think Aela and I are involved?"

"Are you not? From what I've noticed in the short time I've been here, you two are always together."

"Gods, Da, nay, Aela and I aren't involved in that way. We're close, but she's like an older sister to me. Her and Randulf's father were my closest friends when Lassarina and I returned to Skyrim."

"Ah, forgive me, I misunderstood," Thorolf apologized. "Her boy is quite energetic, though."

"Show me a three-year-old who _isn't._"

"Aela and him kept me company while you were gone. You were all that boy could talk about."

Einarr smiled and nodded. "Well, Randulf's father died before Aela had even started to show, so I took it upon myself to help her. I know what it's like raising a child all by yourself. I'm fine with acting as a surrogate father for Randulf."

Thorolf smiled back at him and clapped his shoulder. "That's a good thing you're doing son. I'm glad you grew up to be an honorable man."

Randulf had eaten a good amount of the food on his plate by the time Einarr joined him and Aela. The young boy animatedly filled him in on everything he had done while he had been away, and Einarr listened to each rushed, babbled word as it spilled out of Randulf's lips in an uninterrupted rant. It was only when he finished his food and Aela allowed him a honeyed-nut treat that Randulf fell quiet and finally let him talk to Aela.

"I'll need to speak to you and the rest of the Circle soon," he informed Aela, taking a sip of his mead.

Aela nodded. "I can have someone get Farkas and Vilkas and ask them to join us here later on."

"The Circle?" Thorolf echoed.

"Aye, they're a branch of the Companions composed of our more senior members," Einarr explained. "Aela is part of it, as is Farkas, Vilkas, and Athis."

Erendriel was walking by with Ria at his side, and Aela waved him over. Einarr regarded them both with a smile and couldn't help but notice the two were holding hands. Kiraya had a big part in getting them together, constantly forcing situations where the shy Bosmer and the pretty Imperial had to be alone together. He recalled that Erendriel had gone to Riften alone a few weeks back and wondered if he'd purchased an Amulet of Mara.

"Erendriel, could you and Ria go to Farkas and Vilkas's homes and tell them the Circle is meeting?" Aela asked the couple.

"Tell them we're meeting in the Underforge in a quarter hour," Einarr added, deciding right then to just get what needed to be done out of the way.

The two of them nodded, and Einarr finished up his food quickly while Aela went and got Athis from his room. The entire time he had been on the road back, he had been weighing the decision and had come to the conclusion that it was the best thing to do right now. So a quarter hour later, he was standing in the Underforge with the Circle and his father as well. Everyone seemed extremely uncomfortable and appeared to be avoiding looking in Vilkas's general direction, not that Einarr blamed any of them.

His brother-in-law looked awful. His hair was ragged and tangled, and his normally clean shaven face was covered in a shadowy beard. But the thing that really disturbed Einarr was the look in Vilkas's eyes. His blue-gray eyes were dark and filled with so many negative emotions that it was hard to look at him without expressing the pity and anger Einarr felt for him at that moment. He was honestly glad Lassarina wasn't around to see him like this, because it might very well completely end their relationship.

"Why did you call us here?" Vilkas asked gruffly, his voice hoarse and raspy.

"Lassarina has allied herself with Ulfric," Einarr began, glancing at Vilkas only briefly to see him flinch at the mention of her name. "But it's been decided that the fact that she's still alive and among the Stormcloak ranks should be kept a secret for now for the safety of the twins."

Vilkas scoffed. "So Ulfric actually gives a shit about my children, then? Odd, since he didn't seem to care about retaliating against the Thalmor when I wrote to him and told him that they were responsible for his _only _sister's death."

"Vilkas," Farkas murmured a warning.

Einarr ignored Vilkas's bitter attitude and continued. "Because Lassarina isn't well suited for fighting on the front lines, she's been tasked with secretly infiltrating Thalmor bases with a team of spies she's recruiting directly from the Thieves Guild. Until this war over, she's going to stay in hiding so no one catches wind of her actions, and so the Thalmor can't pinpoint her location.

"But that leaves the Stormcloaks with the problem that their ranks aren't as numerous as they'd prefer them to be. The size of their army at the moment isn't large enough to evict the Thalmor from Skyrim. That being said, Ulfric came up with the idea of using a figurehead that everyone respects to gain more support for his army."

Aela's eyes flashed and Einarr knew that she discerned that he was the figurehead. "Einarr, you _can't_ join the Stormcloaks."

"I agree," Athis muttered, looking a bit disgusted by the idea. "The Companions decided to remain neutral in this idiotic war. Kodlak made a wise choice when he decided it."

Farkas was frowning, clearly appearing torn. "You're our Harbinger, Einarr. You pretty much set an example for the rest of the Companions. Why can't Lassarina just be the figurehead?"

"Because the moment the Thalmor discover she's working for the Stormcloak army, the twins will disappear forever," Thorolf told them. "Assuming that Lassarina's children are still in Skyrim, the Thalmor won't have any problem moving them somewhere where we wouldn't be able to get to them."

"Which is why _I _have to be the figurehead that Ulfric needs," Einarr concluded. "I realize that my actions will reflect on the Companions and effectively strip them of any neutrality they had before today. But I don't want any of you to feel like you have to choose sides. So until this war is settled and we have Faolan and Lyanna back, I hereby resign as Harbinger of the Companions."

Every one of the Circle gasped and stared at him in shock. When none of them spoke, Einarr decided to continue.

"I want Aela to run things in the meantime, with Athis and Farkas assisting her."

Farkas stepped forward. "Einarr, as much as I would like to help, I can't. Avyanna figured that the moment Lassarina left for Windhelm, she'd be joining the Stormcloaks and this war would really start to escalate. She wants nothing to do with it and wants to take the boys to Solitude until it's all over. I can't exactly abandon my wife and children."

"Like I did?" Vilkas muttered accusingly.

"I didn't say anything like that, Vilkas."

"Nay, but you were thinking it. You all are."

"Aye, because your problems are all we think about," Aela said sarcastically.

Vilkas shot a glare at the Huntress before turning to Einarr. "What about me? Faolan and Lyanna are my children too, but you haven't asked me to do anything."

Deciding he'd had enough of Vilkas's attitude, Einarr returned his glare with equal ferocity and stepped forward until their noses were only inches apart. "You want something to do, Vilkas? How about you get your shit together and start acting like the fucking man you ought to be instead of the drunken lout you've become? I don't want you helping with anything the way you are now. This man you've become," he poked him harshly in the chest, "you don't deserve to help. You don't deserve Faolan and Lyanna. And you don't deserve my sister."

Vilkas's eyes burned and he shoved Einarr back. "You want to say that to me again?"

"I don't like to repeat myself, so hopefully my advice will stick and you'll try to be the man my sister and your kids deserve. If Lassarina were to see you the way you are right now, she'd leave you for good."

"Einarr, stop kicking a man when he's already down," Thorolf intervened, grabbing onto his shoulder.

Einarr turned his head to look at his father. "Da, no offense but this doesn't concern you."

"Nay, maybe not, but I think I out of everyone here, can understand how he's feeling right now. You've been fortunate enough not experience the fear and pain of being separated from your wife and children and not have any idea what's happened to them."

Einarr flinched at the raw emotion in his father's eyes and took a few steps away from Vilkas. He'd stop being Lassarina's intimidating older brother for now, but if Vilkas did something stupid the next time they saw each other, he'd castrate the man himself.

"He is right about one thing, though," Thorolf continued, looking at Vilkas. "Really, man, clean yourself up. Do you really want you wife to see you like this when she _does _come around? And trust me, she will."

Vilkas lowered his gaze and grunted right before turning around and leaving the Underforge. Thorolf smiled sadly and looked at everyone.

"He'll be clean and shaven by morning, mark my words."

Aela chuckled and shook her head. "Einarr, I must say, I like your father."

"He's like the old man," Farkas agreed.

Einarr's brows rose a bit, but when he thought about it, his father _was _a lot like Kodlak. It must be the reason that he respected his predecessor so much when he was still with the Companions.

"Da, I wanted you to come with me to Windhelm when I leave," Einarr told him. "The Thalmor might try looking for you soon if they haven't started already. I don't want you to be taken again."

Thorolf shot him a glare. "What, you think I can't take care of myself? I'm not a helpless old man, boy."

"Aye, I get that, but you've also been trapped in a prison for nearly thirty years and haven't wielded a sword just as long. You can't fight _anyone_ off when you're that rusty."

"Windhelm _would_ be a safe place to hide from the Thalmor," Aela added helpfully. "We'd be more than happy to have you stay here in Jorrvaskr, but I'm sure your son would feel better if you just went with him. Plus, don't you want to make up for lost time?"

Einarr shot a grateful glance at Aela. The Huntress could always understand what he was feeling and thinking and was subtly trying to get Thorolf to go with him. He'd have to talk to Kiraya about coming too, but he wasn't sure if he'd feel entirely too comfortable having his daughter in Windhelm. Everyone in Whiterun was used to her and her appearance, but all of the racist Nords in Ulfric's city would mistreat her.

_Maybe I can have her stay in Riften for a while, _he thought to himself.

Thorolf sighed heavily and crossed his arms over his chest. "Aye, I guess I'll go. But I won't be stay in the jarl's keep!"

Einarr already figured that, and he too had no intention of staying in the Palace of the Kings. He was sure the reason his father didn't want to stay there was because he didn't feel like seeing the place where Freyja had taken another man and birthed his child. His father had said he wasn't angry about Freyja finding another man, but that was a clear lie. He may not be angry at her or Lassarina, but he was definitely angry at Fjrokvar Stormcloak. The deceased jarl should be glad he was safe from Thorolf in Sovngarde.

"We'll stay at the inn, Da, don't worry," Einarr reassured him.

"When are you leaving?" Athis asked.

"Most likely tomorrow. I want to end this war as quickly as possible."

"Avyanna and I will probably take the boys to Solitude a few days after," Farkas sighed. "Aela, do you think you can check in on my brother every now and then?"

Aela curled her lip distastefully. "I'll send Grognak to check on him, but unless he's lying bleeding on the floor or comes to me, I'm not going to waste my breath on him."

Einarr shook his head at how badly Vilkas's attitude had affected the other Companions. The only one that hadn't been fazed by Vilkas's temper and depression was Grognak, and Orsimer who had joined nearly a year ago and became close friend with the man since they shared similar interests.

"I guess that'll have to be good enough," Farkas mumbled.

"Kiraya still at your house?" Einarr asked.

"Aye, she and Rohan are in his room making arrows or something."

Einarr narrowed his eyes. "You let them go into his room alone?"

Farkas nodded. "Why do you ask?"

Aela chuckled and Athis had a smirk on his face while Einarr growled angrily. "Gods damn it, Farkas. You don't leave two kids their age in a room alone!"

Farkas looked confused. "What? You didn't have a problem with it before."

"They aren't ten anymore."

"Oh, gods, is that what you're worrying about? They aren't doing anything like that, Einarr."

Einarr gave him a light shove as he walked past him and muttered, "Shut up, ice-brain."

**oOo**

**(10th of Rain's Hand, 205 4E)**

Lassarina swung her fist and punched Ravyn in the jaw as hard as she could. The Dunmer clutched his face painfully as he went down, and then Lassarina kicked him in the stomach.

"Why the fuck have you been telling people I've come back?" she growled as she kicked him once more.

"I didn't know we were supposed to keep it a secret," he groaned as he tried to get up.

But Lassarina just kicked him down again. "Were you not listening when I said no one should know I'm here?"

"Lass, take it easy," Brynjolf urged her.

"Nay, Brynjolf! Because of him, Maven is asking questions! Last thing I want is someone who regularly attends Elenwen's parties to know where I am!"

"We already cleared it up and said it was just a ploy to get people to start paying for our protection again," Rune said. "I talked to Ingun and she passed the information on to her mother."

Lassarina raked her fingers through her hair and began pacing pack and forth on the platform in the center of the cistern. She was fine with only people she trusted knowing she was alive-Talen-Jei, Keerava, Maramal up in the temple—but the last person she wanted aware of her return was Maven Black-Briar. She had no doubt that the bitch would easily sell her out to the Thalmor if it meant advancing herself in society.

"Now I won't be able to leave the Cistern," she snapped, glaring at Ravyn who was being helped up by Rune. "Not that I would have been able to go out much anyway. Imperial forces are all over The Rift and no one can see me!"

It wasn't a secret to anyone in the Guild that Lassarina was getting stir crazy, and the fact that she hadn't gotten any sleep the past couple of days wasn't helping. Everyone could see she was getting closer and closer to just snapping under the strain of her stress and she was starting to take it out on members of the Guild.

"All right, beautiful, you're letting all this stress get to you," Finverior said, walking over with a wooden pipe in his hands. "Try this, it's a little something to help you relax."

"What in Oblivion is that?" Brynjolf demanded, taking the pipe before Lassarina could grab it. "What are you trying to give her?"

Finverior held up his hands in surrender. "Relax, Brynjolf, it isn't what you think it is. It's just a plant that grows in Valenwood called Dreamleaf. It'll relax her for a couple of hours, and the only side-effect is that she'll be starving afterwards, which, judging by her weight, wouldn't be a bad thing."

Brynjolf eyed the dried up leaves before he sighed and handed it to Lassarina. She brought the pipe to her lips and smacked Finverior's arm, indicating him to light it. The Bosmer rolled his eyes before calling up a fire spell to one finger and holding it over the bowl. She took a few puffs of the foul-tasting smoke and coughed when she released it.

"This tastes like shit," she muttered.

"Yes, but it's better than you killing someone," Finverior told her.

"Well, I'm sorry, but after the past four months, being stuck in a single space isn't exactly appealing to me!"

She turned her head when she heard someone approaching and saw Karliah accompanied by some unfamiliar Bosmer woman in strange robes.

"Who in Oblivion is this?" Lassarina demanded, not liking the idea of some stranger being inside the cistern.

Karliah nodded to the woman beside her. "Lassarina, this is–"

"My name is Galathil," the Bosmer woman interrupted. "I was formerly employed by the Aldmeri Dominion."

At the mention of the Dominion, Lassarina drew her dagger and held it between them. "And what is someone from the Aldmeri Dominion doing here? Did no one tell you they're not welcome here?"

"Perhaps you didn't hear me say _formerly employed, _I understand you hate them. It's a feeling I can sympathize with."

"Just tell me what you want."

Galathil's eyes gleamed as she lowered her hood and smirked at Lassarina. "I want to help you. I may have a solution to your problem."

* * *

_If any of you know who Galathil is, you've probably already guessed what Lassarina is about to do to herself._

_Hope you enjoyed the chapter, please **Fave/Follow/Review! **Getting your reviews always makes me smile!_


	11. Chapter 11

_All right everyone! Let's get this Civil War started!_

_Hope you enjoy this chapter! This is Book Four of my series! **Full Moon, Walk in the Shadows, and Sovngarde Beckons **are the prequels in that order._

_Please remember to **Fave/Follow/Review! **_

_Musical Inspiration for this chapter: One by Metallica_

* * *

******Chapter Eleven**

******(11********th******** of Rain's Hand, 205 4E)**

"Why couldn't you have just left me in Whiterun?" Kiraya complained as she hopped off the cart at Windhelm's stables, slinging her pack over her shoulder once she was off. "I hate Windhelm."

Einarr sighed tiredly for the thousandth time in the three days it had taken for them to get to Ulfric's city. "Aye, I know you do, Kiraya. Every living thing between here and Whiterun knows you hate Windhelm."

Kiraya had complained their entire trip and was sulking more than she normally did, constantly glaring at him for bringing her to her least favorite city in Skyrim, but he couldn't really blame her for it. The last time Einarr had brought her to Windhelm, she had been harassed by Galmar's idiot, racist brother Rolff and it pretty much soured her to the idea of ever visiting.

"I could've gone with Rohan to Solitude too," she muttered bitterly. "Instead I get to stay in a city filled with ignorant racists."

"Kiraya, it's only temporary until I can spare the time to take you to Riften," Einarr told her, securing the straps of his greatsword's scabbard across his chest and jumping down to the ground beside her. "I don't want you in Imperial territory until this war is over."

"As if I would let any Thalmor take me like they did Faolan and Lyanna."

"You wouldn't have a choice, little one," Thorolf murmured as he carefully eased himself down to the ground. "You may not be a defenseless toddler like your cousins, but that would only make the Thalmor think it would be fine to hurt you. They don't show mercy or remorse."

Kiraya frowned and grabbed her bow off the carriage floor. "We're not staying at the inn, are we?"

Einarr smirked at how quickly she changed the subject. "Aye, we are. You're aunt isn't here, so I refuse to stay under Ulfric's roof."

His daughter's face fell. "But–"

"I understand you're worried about that man from last time, but I'm not going to let anyone bother you, kitten."

Thorolf huffed and grabbed the handle of the shortsword Einarr had given him. "I'd like to see anyone mess with my granddaughter while I'm around."

Einarr chuckled. "You might need to get some practice in before you start saying things like that, Da." He turned to thank the carriage driver and started leading the way across the bridge. "I need to go to the palace and report to Ulfric first, so if you want, you both can wait for me at the inn."

"Nay, I'll come with you," Kiraya said.

"I don't want to sit inside an inn by myself," his father grumbled. "I'll come too."

Einarr looked at his father for a moment and guessed he just wanted to see how Freyja had been living for a short period of her life. He wouldn't deny him this opportunity, even it was just Thorolf sizing up someone who was no longer alive. So he led the way to the Palace of Kings, not missing that slight scowl on his father's face when he pushed open the large doors and revealed the expansive interior of the keep. His father was indeed jealous that Freyja had found someone else to involve in her life romantically, and it was just killing him inside.

"You and your mother lived here?" he asked softly, his brown eyes dark as they took in everything.

"Aye, but it was less than two years," Einarr replied. "I never really cared for it. I'm not one for lavish things."

"Had the Thalmor never invaded, you would have grown up in a place just like this. Cloud Ruler Temple was my family's home for so many generations. I don't regret getting out when we did, though. If we had stayed, we'd all probably be dead right now."

Einarr nodded sadly and continued walking up the hall to where Jorlief stood beside Ulfric's throne. The steward was pacing as he read through some letters and missives, but looked up when Einarr approached.

"Ulfric is in the war room," Jorlief said before looking back to the papers.

Einarr turned to the war room, his father and Kiraya close behind, and found Ulfric standing over the map of Skyrim. He seemed to be deep in thought, his brows furrowed as he scratched his bearded chin.

"Our sister arrived in Riften without incident," he said without looking up. "She sent over a list with the names of her team."

Einarr picked up the piece of paper Ulfric pushed toward him and scanned the names. "I know most of them. They're the best thieves Skyrim has to offer. They'll get the job done, no problem."

Kiraya snatched the list from his hands. "Finverior and Brynjolf are on this list!"

Ulfric finally looked up from the map and noticed Kiraya. "You brought your daughter with you?"

"Aye, and my father as well," Einarr nodded tersely. "I didn't think it'd be wise to leave them in Whiterun."

The corner of Ulfric's mouth twitched a bit and he looked at Thorolf for the first time. "So you're Thorolf Windblade? I've heard many stories about you before and during the war. You were instrumental in taking down several Thalmor groups outside of Cyrodiil, but you ran off just as the war began."

Thorolf looked at Ulfric with hardened eyes. "My son had been born the day the war started. I wasn't going to risk my family's lives for a war we were horribly unprepared for."

Ulfric nodded and turned to Einarr. "Galmar had to leave on a mission a few days ago. Once he gets back, we'll decide what our next move is."

Einarr was about to reply when he heard Kiraya whisper to Thorolf behind him, "– he does this thing where he pretends he doesn't see me cause he's uncomfortable with how I look."

"Kiraya," Einarr growled over his shoulder.

Her ears flattened at the realization that he had overheard and Einarr looked at Ulfric in time to see his eyes narrow. The jarl had overheard what his daughter had said too but didn't seem to be bothered by it. Einarr had noticed Ulfric's behavior around Kiraya the few times they were ever together and its was painstakingly clear that the man did not care to look at her.

"Forgive my daughter, Ulfric," Einarr apologized.

"Nay, it's fine," Ulfric muttered. "She wouldn't be the first to point out my prejudice."

"Just because the Thalmor are bad doesn't mean you have to hate everyone that _isn't _a Nord," Kiraya muttered.

"Kiraya!" Einarr snapped, turning to face her.

He was shocked to hear Ulfric chuckle a bit. "At least she _speaks_ like a Nord. I can respect that."

They all looked to the corridor that connected the war room to the main hall when they heard the palace doors open with several whoops of joy. Footsteps drew nearer and a slim figure in Stormcloak armor turned into the hall.

"Ulfric, Galmar says you owe him a mead!" the woman said triumphantly, holding up some strange looking helmet in one hand.

"Assa!" Thorolf gasped happily at the sight of the woman.

Assa's gray eyes lit up at the sight of Thorolf and Einarr, and she wasted no time in pulling his father into a hug. "Thorolf, my gods, what are you doing here?"

"Einarr has decided to take up arms with the Stormcloaks. The Thalmor kidnapped Lassarina's children and he thought joining would give him a better advantage at finding them."

"They took her children?" Assa asked, pulling away with a frown on her face. "That's terrible!" She then turned to Einarr and added, "I'm so sorry for your loss."

"What loss?" Kiraya spat. "My cousins aren't dead, they're just missing! We're going to get them back!"

Einarr could tell that Assa hadn't been prepared for Kiraya's appearance. Her gray eyes went wide and she couldn't look away for a moment, too fixated on the girl in front of her. He could see that the staring was irritating Kiraya too, if her lashing tail was any clear indication.

"W-who's this?" Assa asked, clearing her throat quickly.

Einarr didn't answer her, since he was feeling a bit irritable over the woman's reaction to his daughter, so Thorolf replied, "This is my granddaughter, Kiraya."

"Oh . . . I heard that the Dragonborn had a child, but I didn't realize–"

"That she was half-Khajiit?" Kiraya hissed.

Assa shook her head. "Nay, that you were already a young woman. I assumed that you'd still be little."

Kiraya scoffed and looked at her father. "I'm going to wait out in the hall."

"Aye, that's fine," Einarr murmured, glaring at Assa.

"Assa, what were you saying about Galmar?" Ulfric asked.

"Oh, right," Assa murmured, looking a bit ashamed of herself. She once again held up the strange looking helm and said, "We found the Jagged Crown, so I believe you owe Galmar a drink."

Ulfric's sea-green eyes lit up and he let out a delighted laugh. "Damn him–the old bear was right! Here, let me have it."

Einarr watched as Assa handed Ulfric the Jagged Crown, bowing her head respectfully as she stepped back. While the jarl held it up to admire it, Einarr studied it closely. The Jagged Crown was indeed the perfect name for it. He couldn't resist feeling envious as he took in the helm made up completely of dragon bone and teeth, but it looked like it would be extremely uncomfortable to wear.

"Sweet Akatosh, what is that thing made of?" Thorolf asked.

"Made of the bones and teeth of dragons, the Jagged Crown sat upon the heads of countless High Kings and Queens before it was lost to time," Ulfric answered. "Did your group run into any trouble, Assa?"

"The Imperials were there before us," she reported. "Hans was badly wounded, but other than that we received no casualties. It was nothing we couldn't handle."

"That's the spirit. I'll get all the details from Galmar when he gets back. Where is he?"

"He went home to his family and sent the rest of us to the barracks to get some sleep. But not before he asked me to bring you the crown."

Ulfric nodded and set down the crown. "Get some rest, then. Report back tomorrow and we'll find another job for you to do. Same goes for you, Einarr."

"Very well," Einarr murmured, nodding his head to the jarl. "If you should need me for anything, I'll be staying at the inn."

"The inn?" Assa echoed. "All three of you?"

Einarr turned to her. "Aye, what of it?"

"Well, why not stay at my home? It's only me and my daughter, and we have plenty of room. It's more convenient than wasting all your gold at the inn."

Einarr was about to decline the offer, but his father interrupted him. "That's an idea. Kiraya _was _worried about staying at the inn after all."

"My daughter is around her age too, so she'll have someone to keep her company in an unfamiliar city."

"I'm not sure," Einarr grumbled.

"Please, it's the least I can do for you saving me from that Thalmor prison."

Einarr sighed heavily and debated with himself silently. On the one hand it _would _be a lot more convenient to take Assa up on her offer and stay at her house. She and his father were clearly friends after spending gods knew how many months sitting across from each other in the prison. But on the other hand, Kiraya wouldn't be too pleased with the idea, especially after Assa's reaction to her appearance.

"I guess we can try it for a night," Einarr finally decided.

"Oh, good!" Assa smiled. "I'll lead the way if you'd like to leave now."

Einarr nodded and turned to Ulfric one last time. "You know where to find us, Ulfric."

But Ulfric was already looking over his war map again and waved his hand absently to them, silently dismissing them from his presence. Einarr rolled his eyes and followed Assa and his father out of the war room, finding Kiraya sitting at the long table, spinning a septim.

"Kiraya, we're leaving," Einarr called out to her.

His daughter snatched up the septim and tucked it into her pocket. "Off to the inn, then?"

"Actually, Assa has graciously offered her home to us, so we'll be staying with her."

He saw her whole body stiffen and her feline eyes narrow angrily as she turned to look at Assa. "Are you serious?"

He walked over and whispered to her, "It's only for one night, just to try it out. As soon as I can, I'll take you to Riften and ignore the fact that your aunt's underlings are teaching you how to rob people blind."

"If it makes you feel better, Aunt Rina says I have no hope of being a pick pocket. Apparently I have clumsy hands."

Einarr chuckled and wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they followed Assa out of the palace and through the streets of Windhelm. As they walked, he couldn't help but notice that Kiraya had grown a few more inches and her head was level with his shoulder. Her body was also developing in ways he chose to ignore since it was a clear indication that his daughter wasn't a little girl anymore.

_I'm going to have to be more vigilant when it comes to her and Rohan spending time together, _he thought to himself.

The fourteen-year-old was already taller than his sister Avyanna and had lost enough baby fat for him to turn more than a few heads. The fact that Kiraya was hopelessly enamored of him didn't make Einarr feel any better, either.

"Well, this is my house," Assa announced as they arrived at a very large residence.

Even Kiraya was impressed by it. "Are you rich or something?"

Assa chuckled. "Oh, nay, far from it. I could only really afford it because no one except me was crazy enough to buy it after what happened here."

"What happened?" Thorolf asked.

"There was some man going by the name The Butcher a few years back. He would kill women and takes pieces of their bodies so he could remake his dead sister. He would bring them here to assemble them."

"I heard about that," Einarr suddenly spoke. "I think everyone in Skyrim heard about it, actually. It was a terrible thing."

"My friend Susanna was one of his victims and apparently, I would have been next on the list. He tried cornering me in the middle of the night, but I outmatched him and he died by my hand. As a reward for serving his city, Jarl Ulfric made me a thane and offered me this house at a price I couldn't pass."

With a relieved sigh, she walked up to the door and unlocked it, holding it open for them. Thorolf rushed in to get out of the cold while Einarr and Kiraya followed more slowly. The inside of the house looked even bigger than the outside suggested. A warm fire was lit in the hearth nearby, and it filled the entire room in its warm light.

"Your house is just beautiful," Thorolf commented, taking a few steps inside and turning slowly so he could look at everything.

"Thank you, Thorolf," Assa said as she closed and locked the door.

"So it's just you and your daughter?" Einarr asked. "No husband?"

A frown tugged at the corner of her lips. "Nay . . . my husband passed away a few years ago. He died a soldier, though."

Einarr saw his father placed a hand on Assa's shoulder and squeeze it gently. "I'm sure he's feasting in Sovngarde right now."

Einarr looked over to the stairs when he heard the pounding of feet against wood. A young girl with red-brown hair was coming down the steps, a small black-and-white cat in her arms. She looked right at Assa and was extremely relieved to see her.

"Mama, you're home!" she shouted, running over to Assa, who promptly hugged her. "I was worried about you."

"I know, sweetling," Assa murmured, pushing the hair away from her face and kissing her forehead. "Were you good while I was away?"

"Aye, Calder came and checked up on me every day." She then looked at Einarr, Thorolf and Kiraya. "Who are they?"

"Sofie, Thorolf was in the same prison as me and his son Einarr was the one who rescued us. Einarr is going to be staying with us while he's in Windhelm as a thank you for helping me."

Sofie regarded Einarr and his father for a moment, but she kept looking at Kiraya. "Wait, I know you! You're the girl with the pet wolf!"

Kiraya's eyes widened in recognition and she nodded. "Oh, yeah, that's why you looked familiar. I thought I've seen you before."

"You two know each other?" Einarr asked his daughter.

"Aye, three years ago when we found out Ulfric got Lassarina. I kind of collided into her when I was running away from those mean men at the inn." She looked at Sofie. "It's good to see you again."

"Sofie, sweetie, why don't you show Kiraya to your room?" Assa suggested. "She's going to be staying with you if that's all right."

"Aye, mama, that's fine," Sofie nodded. "Kiraya, follow me."

The two girls disappeared into a room in the back and Einarr's father smiled at Assa. "Such a sweet child. You and your husband must have been very young when you had her."

Einarr wanted to stop his father right then and explain to him that Sofie wasn't Assa's true-born daughter. Despite the fact that the girl looked nothing like the woman, she didn't have any trace of Assa's scent. Ever since he became a werewolf, Einarr learned that children took on a unique mixture of their parents scents. But if he said anything then he'd arouse suspicion over his werewolf side.

"Nay, Thorolf, Sofie's adopted," Assa explained. "I didn't know her mother since she died a long time ago, but her father served with my husband. He died in the line of duty and I adopted her last year when I found out she was living on the streets."

"Oh," Thorolf murmured, looking embarrassed. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine, you didn't know. Here, follow me and I'll show you the room where you and Einarr will be staying."

They followed her upstairs to the second floor and found several weapon plaques decorating the walls as well as a handful of display cases and mannequins sporting armor. He walked over to the one wearing some old, worn, steel armor and inspected it with a trained eye.

"This armor has seen better days," he commented. "But it must have been a fine set when it was first made."

"It was the armor my husband wore before he enlisted with the Stormcloaks," Assa explained, walking over and gently touching the cold steel. "Ingolf lived life to the fullest as an adventurer, exploring ruins and collecting weapons and armor he could proudly display. Everything in here are things he and I found and kept."

"What about this armor set over here?" Einarr's father called out, making them both turn to look at it. "It's incomplete."

Einarr's eyes swept across the partial set of ebony armor, and he let out a hum of appreciation. While it was missing the helmet, boots and shield, what was there was still impressive to look at.

"Ingolf and I were putting that together before the war started," Assa explained. "It's a shame we were never able to complete it."

"The collection you currently have is still very impressive," Einarr told her. "I'm a blacksmith myself, and I can tell you that you're sitting on a gold mine with all these weapon and armor sets."

"I'd never sell it, though. It means far too much to me to even consider parting with it." With a heavy sigh she nodded her head to a nearby door. "You both can stay in that room. It's not that big, but there are two single beds in there."

"Thank you for offering your home to us," Thorolf said.

"It's the least I could do. I mean, what's the point of having such a big house if you don't make room for guests?" She pointed at the door across from their room. "That's my room right there, by the way. If you need anything and can't find me anywhere else around the house, I'm usually in there. I'll probably have dinner cooked by sunset."

"Good to know," Einarr murmured as he stepped into the guest room.

The single bed he was meant to sleep in would take some getting used to, especially when he'd been sleeping in a large bed all by himself for the past five years, but he was grateful that it at least looked a lot more comfortable than the beds in the inns. As he dropped his pack on one of the beds, he sat down and wondered how he was going to survive living in Windhelm for months.

**oOo**

Like he did every night, Einarr woke up sometime past midnight due to the combination of hunger and restlessness that came with having beastblood. Scratching the coarse hair on his chest, he made his way downstairs to the kitchen of Assa's home in search of water. The fire in the kitchen was still blazing, but he saw that it was starting to weaken, so he instinctively tossed a dry log onto it. He warmed his hands for a couple of moments before he turned and started searching for the water.

"How is anyone supposed to find anything in here?" he muttered to himself, wishing he was in Jorrvaskr's smaller, more familiar kitchen. He spotted a bottle of mead on the table and picked it up. "Not water, but still good."

He yanked out the cork with his teeth and sat down at the table, taking several chugs to quench his thirst. He was contemplating rummaging around for something to eat when he heard footsteps behind him and caught Assa's scent. Einarr looked over his shoulder just as she was walking in. She looked like she was half-asleep, wearing an unfastened robe that allowed him a brief glance at her nightclothes, which was just a large shirt hanging down to her thighs and nothing else. She walked all the way to the cupboard without even glancing at him and he watched her pull out a sweetroll and take an enormous bite out of hit, humming happily as she chewed on it.

Deciding he should make himself known, Einarr cleared his throat and asked, "Wake up for a midnight snack?"

Assa let out a squeak of surprise and her hand immediately drew her robe around her body while holding onto the sweetroll with her mouth. Einarr couldn't resist the small chuckle that escaped him in that moment, and he caught her glaring out of the corner of her eye.

"Sorry if I startled you," he said, holding up the bottle of mead. "And sorry about taking some mead, but I couldn't find that pitcher of water."

She grabbed the sweetroll from her mouth, chewing on another bite of it. "It's right in front of you."

He looked at the table in front of him and winced when he saw the pitcher. "Ah, guess I wasn't looking hard enough then."

"So do you always wake up in the middle of the night for a drink of mead?" she asked, walking over and sitting across from him.

"Every single night, but to be fair, it's not always mead. Sometimes I do drink water." He took another sip and gestured to her sweetroll. "Do you always wake up in the middle of the night to eat sweets?"

She answered him by taking another bite of the sweetroll. "Every night."

They sat in silence for a few moments, finishing off the last bit of their nighttime treats. It was an awkward silence, since Einarr was still a bit irritated with her over how she reacted to Kiraya, but he felt obligated to be polite to her since she had allowed him and his family to stay in her home.

"Einarr," Assa suddenly spoke. "Look, I want to apologize about how I stared at your daughter today."

He looked at her, completely surprised and thrown off, but shrugged a shoulder. "It's not me you have to apologize to."

"Aye, I know, I was just surprised. I have nothing against the Khajiit; I've just never seen a girl quite like her before."

"Look, if it's all right with you, I'd rather not hear your excuses," he growled. "I've heard them all before, but it still doesn't change anything. My daughter's going to have a tough enough life without thinking she doesn't belong anywhere."

Assa opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by someone pounding on the front door. She arched a brow in confusion and looked back and forth between him and the door.

"You should probably get that," Einarr told her, rising from the table with every intention of going back to bed.

He heard Assa sigh heavily, but she too got up from her seat and walked to the front door, opening it and letting in a rush of freezing air.

"My thane, you're wanted at the palace," said a voice.

Einarr snuck a peek of the door before he started up the stairs and saw an unfamiliar city guard standing at the doorway. Shrugging, he turned to the stairs and only took a couple of steps up when he was called back by the guard.

"Dragonborn, Jarl Ulfric asked for you as well."

Einarr turned and glared at the man. "What for?"

"I was only told to send the message," the guard explained.

Assa nodded. "Thank you. Inform the jarl we'll be there in a quarter hour."

When she closed the door, Einarr let out a displeased growl and headed back up the stairs to get dressed. He did so as quietly as possible so he wouldn't wake his father, who was snoring rather loudly in his bed, and headed back downstairs where Assa was waiting for him, wearing a simple dress with a cloak hanging off her shoulders.

"Come on, we shouldn't keep the esteemed jarl waiting," Einarr told her bitterly.

As they headed out of the house and walked side by side, Assa looked at him and asked, "You don't like Ulfric, do you?"

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "What gave it away?"

"Hmm, I'm not sure, maybe it's just the way you talk about him."

He chuckled and shook his head. "We have history; let's just leave it at that."

When they walked into the palace, it was just in time to see several guards carrying away three bodies, wrapped up in bloodstained blankets. Assa covered her mouth with both hands in shock while Einarr rushed over to where Ulfric, Galmar and Yrsarald were standing by the throne.

"What in Oblivion happened?" he asked them. "Who died?"

Yrsarald was the one who answered. "The former jarl of Riften, Laila Law-Giver, and both her sons were murdered in their sleep."

"We caught the assassin who did it," Galmar added. "Some Imperial bitch who refuses to talk. Not that it matters. She'll be meeting the headsman in the morning."

"Wait, an Imperial woman?" Einarr repeated. "Is she blonde and a bit on the curvaceous side?"

"Aye," Yrsarald nodded. "Why, do you know her?"

Einarr sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Unfortunately, I do. I think I could get her to talk."

Ulfric's eyes lit up and he waved over a guard. "Bring the assassin."

The guard ran off with a nod and Assa walked on over with a grim expression. "How could an assassin get in here so easily?"

"Believe it or not, it's not that difficult," Einarr told her. "After all, my sister was able to sneak in and steal anything she could get her hands on without any problems."

"We're going to have to increase the number of guards," Galmar mused. "If they were able to get to Laila and her sons this easily, what's to stop an assassin from getting to you, Ulfric? Or Urska?"

"Da, you worry too much," said a new voice.

Einarr glanced up and saw Galmar's oldest daughter, Urska, walking out of the war room looking exhausted. She wasn't showing any signs of being pregnant, but he could smell the warm scent that enveloped her the same way it enveloped Lassarina and Aela when they were pregnant with their children.

"Urska, what are you doing down here?" Galmar demanded.

"I wanted to see what was going on," she answered. She spotted Einarr and smiled at him. "Dragonborn, it's good to see you again. I'm glad to hear you've joined the ranks of the Stormcloaks."

"Urska, love, I don't think you should be down here right now," Ulfric told her. "The guards are bringing the assassin and I'd rather you be safe in our room."

"Stop treating me like I'm fragile, like anything will happen to me with so many people here."

Assa snorted. "Aye, she didn't forget how to defend herself just because you impregnanted her, Ulfric."

Ulfric's eyes flashed and he glared at Assa. "We're not advertising that, Assa. No one outside this group knows about that, and I'd rather we keep it that way."

"Back to what I was saying," Galmar interjected. "How do we stop this from happening again?"

"You won't have to worry about that," spoke a sultry voice. "I made a promise to a dear friend not to target those she considers family."

Einarr bit back a groan and turned to see his sister's assassin friend Daine approaching between two guards, her hands bound by shackles and her lower lip bruised. Her bright amber eyes immediately went to him, and her lips curled in a suggestive smile. Ulfric dismissed both guards and they all waited until they were gone to speak.

"Well, hello there, Einarr," Daine purred. "What an unexpected and pleasurable surprise to see you here."

He nodded. "Daine."

"And here I thought my last day on Nirn would be disappointing. Care to put a smile on my face before dear Ulfric sends me to the block?"

"For the love of Talos, Daine, you're a mother!"

"Yes, I am, but there's no ring on my finger."

Einarr rolled his eyes. "Enough bullshit. Tell me who sent you."

Her gaze sharpened and she looked away. "Now, why would I tell you the name of my employer?"

"Because I asked you."

Ulfric growled and stepped forward. "What did you mean when you said you promised a friend not to target her family? Who's this friend?"

Daine rolled her eyes. "You only have one family member, ice-brain. Lassarina asked me not to kill anyone in her family. It's the least I could do for her, since we're friends and all."

"So she's not only a thief, but she's friends with assassins," Galmar scoffed. "Fjrokvar must be weeping in Sovngarde right now for having a criminal for a daughter."

"Da, Lassarina is a nice girl," Urska commented. "Just because the two of you butt heads all the time doesn't mean she's a bad person."

"Aye," Daine sighed, taking on a very bad Nord accent. "She's such a sweet girl and a good friend. I wonder how she'd react if she learned one of her dear friends had her head chopped off."

Einarr could already see where she was suggesting and sighed. "Ulfric, she's not going to talk unless you'll let her walk out of here alive."

"She must be touched by Sheogorath if she thinks she's going to get out of this without punishment," Galmar spat.

"Fine, then kill me," Daine sniffed. "You'll never know who sent me. But trust me when I say you'll definitely want to know. This person could be a real problem if left alone."

"Just let her go," Einarr said. "She's a terrible flirt and far too cocky, but if she promised Lassarina that she wouldn't allow any of her assassins to touch you or yours, then you can trust her to uphold that promise."

"If you don't trust me, you can at least trust Einarr. And he _does not _like me one bit. I think it's because I'm too much woman for him."

"Nay it's because the last time you were in Whiterun, you let yourself into my bed!"

Assa and Urska both snickered at their little back and forth, while Yrsarald smiled. Ulfric and Galmar, however, weren't amused and were both glaring at Daine.

"Fine," Ulfric finally said through gritted teeth. "We'll let you walk free. _But _you have to tell us who sent you and why."

Daine smirked and turned to the jarl. "You've got a deal, my jarl. I was hired by Maven Black-Briar to kill Laila and her sons. She heard a rumor that Lassarina was alive, and I guess she was scared that her position as Jarl of The Rift would be compromised. I don't see why, though, since Lassarina _is _in fact dead." She turned her intense gaze to Einarr. "Right?"

Einarr stared at her for a moment, his eyes never wavering, before he finally answered. "She's alive, but it's being kept a secret."

Her eyes lit up with joy, but then narrowed suspiciously. "Would the Thalmor have anything to do with keeping such good news a secret?"

"Aye, they took her children right before we reached Whiterun. Since you deal with the seedy underbelly of Skyrim, if you should hear anything suspicious, let us know."

Daine dipped her head in agreement.

"So Maven Black-Briar ordered Laila's death," Yrsarald sighed. "I heard rumors she dealt with the Dark Brotherhood, but I never thought she'd go so far to secure her place in Riften's seat."

"Then clearly you don't know Maven," Daine laughed. "The crazy bitch will do anything and everything to stay in a high seat of power. The moment she was officially given charge of The Rift, she put a plan in place to make sure she stayed there. Her dealings with the Empire make her an enemy of the Stormcloaks and she knew you'd never agree to let her remain jarl if you had Laila to take back her throne should you win the war. I don't know why a rumor of Lassarina being alive would make her this skittish though."

Einarr furrowed his brow and rubbed his chin. "Aye, that does seem a bit suspicious. Maven deals with the Thieves Guild so much and Lassarina worked closely with her. Why would she be scared over a rumor that she's alive?"

"I'll send a courier to Riften to inform her of Maven's dealings," Ulfric decided. "Since they're in the same city she should be more careful."

"Yes, that's all well and good," Daine muttered, clanking her shackles together. "Now could you please release me? I really should get back to my family."

Ulfric called over the guards and had Daine released. With an exaggerated bow, the Imperial woman left without another word and a wink to Einarr. Once she was gone, Galmar turned to Ulfric.

"So what do we do now, Ulfric?" the old general asked. "We can't exactly allow Maven to go on thinking she can get away with things like this."

"Nay, we can't," Ulfric muttered, pacing in front of his throne.

"Then what's our next move?" Yrsarald inquired.

Einarr watched the jarl nervously pace back and forth for several minutes before he finally looked up and turned to him and Assa.

"You two, get fitted into your armor and be ready to move tomorrow," he told them.

Assa dipped her head. "Aye, my jarl, but may I ask why?"

"You're marching into battle."

"You're sending him into battle already?" Galmar demanded. "He hasn't proven himself yet or taken the oath!"

Ulfric rolled his eyes. "Einarr killed Alduin, Galmar. He's already proven himself to everyone in Skyrim. He can always take the oath before he heads into battle."

"I'm all right with marching into a fight," Einarr said, stepping forward. "If I wasn't, I wouldn't be a Companion. But I _would _like to know where exactly I'm marching to."

"The Rift," Ulfric answered. "The Stormcloaks are taking back Riften from Imperial clutches."

Einarr felt a tight clenching in his chest at the thought of attacking the city he had once called home. But such was the way of war. He was just going to have to send a warning to Lassarina so she and the Guild could avoid the fighting.

_Gods willing, she won't do something stupid, _he thought to himself, thought it was very likely she would.

It _was _Lassarina after all.

* * *

_I'm taking the war into my own hands and doing it in the order I see fit!_

_Hope you enjoyed the chapter, please **Fave/Follow/Review! **Getting your reviews always makes me smile!_


	12. Chapter 12

_I think I've written my funniest Finverior scene to date in this chapter. I'm just so happy with it._

_Hope you enjoy this chapter! This is Book Four of my series! **Full Moon, Walk in the Shadows, and Sovngarde Beckons **are the prequels in that order._

_Please remember to **Fave/Follow/Review! **_

_Musical Inspiration for this chapter: Sunday, Blood Sunday by U2, Another Brick in the Wall by Pink Floyd_

* * *

******Chapter Twelve**

******(20********th******** of Rain's Hand, 205 4E)**

"Gods damn it, woman, are you trying to kill me?" Einarr snapped at Assa, flinching in pain.

Assa smacked the back of his head and glared at him. "Sit still or this will hurt a lot more!"

Einarr growled angrily and hissed in pain when Assa inserted the suturing needle into his flesh again. He was still pissed off that he had dropped his guard long enough to allow an Imperial to injure him. While he mostly blamed the Imperial for the gash below his ribcage, he also blamed Galmar for forcing him to wear the Stormcloak uniform. Never in his life had he worn light armor because he truly believed it didn't offer enough protection in a fight. This battle proved he was right, since the cuirass practically fell apart when the sword struck his side.

_Maybe I can figure out a way to convert this into something heavier, _he thought to himself as Assa put in another stitch to his wound.

The Stormcloaks had taken Fort Greenwall less than an hour ago, and after taking surrendering Imperials prisoner, they began tending to their wounded. They only lost a few good men, but it was still a disappointing loss for the army. The commander in charge of The Rift, Gonnar Oath-Giver, was making arrangements to have their bodies returned to their families, as well as letters to Ulfric so they would receive financial compensation for the loss. This first battle caused Einarr's bitterness toward the whole civil war to increase.

He let out a heavy sigh and Assa glanced up at him curiously. "What's wrong?"

"It's all just such a waste," he told her. "All these good men and women, killing each other all because of a threat everyone seems to have forgotten. We shouldn't be fighting our brothers and sisters; it's exactly what the Thalmor want."

Assa frowned. "Aye, we know, but we can't fight them alone. Not when they have Valenwood and the Empire. And we can't exactly bow down to the Empire after signing the White-Gold Concordat. We're the sons and daughters of Skyrim, and we will not abandon our freedom."

"But how much will taking back our freedom cost?"

Instead of answering, Assa fell silent, her gray eyes darkened with a troubled look. She finished stitching him up and tied off the thread of sinew before slicing what was left off with the tip of her dagger. She cleaned off all the blood with a wet rag and handed him his cuirass.

"There, that should work for now," she told him.

"I think I've grown too accustomed to having my injuries healed," he grunted, pulling the top of his armor back on. "One of the Companions back at Jorrvaskr knows healing magic, and she's always tending to our wounds."

"That actually sounds very convenient."

"Aye, it is. Why don't the Stormcloaks have any healers?"

She gave him a wry look. "Because a _true _Nord doesn't rely on magic to win their battles."

Einarr chuckled. "Ah, I forgot all about that. That's right, true Nord will bleed and die proudly."

Assa let out a little tinkling laugh and shook her head. "Nay, believe me, I always thought that recruiting healers to the army would be a good idea. I'm sure the Imperials have them."

"They probably do."

During the march into The Rift, Einarr took some time to get to know Assa a bit better and could see why his father enjoyed being around her so much. Despite the fact that she was a soldier, she was really a very sweet woman, always attentive toward other people's problems and selflessly worrying about others before herself. She would tell him stories of all the ruins and caves she explored before the war with her deceased husband and Einarr started to admire her adventurer's spirit. It made him want to drop everything and take a look at some of the places she had been to, as well as explore a few new ones. He was still a little sore over her reaction to Kiraya, but in spite of that he was really starting to like Assa.

"Oi, Assa!" shouted a familiar voice.

Einarr and Assa both looked over their shoulders and saw Ralof approaching them. When they marched from Windhelm, Einarr was delighted to see the soldier from Riverwood would be accompanying them into battle and spent the nights they camped catching up with him, sharing mead and stories. Ralof had expressed his sorrow over the news of Lassarina's death, and while Einarr desperately wanted to tell the man that she was actually alive, he knew he couldn't risk letting the fact spread throughout the troops.

"Ralof, good to see you survived the battle," Assa said as he neared. "Did you receive any injuries? I just finished stitching up Einarr."

"A few cuts and bruises but nothing that needs to be worried over," Ralof reported, taking a seat beside them. "So you were injured, Einarr?"

"Aye, a damned Imperial got lucky," he grunted. "I hope we get a day to rest before storming Riften."

"I actually just heard the captain talking about that. Apparently Maven's ready for us and had some Imperial soldiers hiding out in the city so they could guard it. Oath-Giver has no idea how we're going to get inside."

"Einarr, don't you have friends within Riften?" Assa asked him.

He caught the meaningful look in her eye and nodded stiffly. "Aye, my sister had allies inside the Thieves Guild, but what good are they when we're out here and they're in there? I doubt Maven's letting anyone inside the city right now, even merchants or travelers."

"I guess it's the captain's problem to deal with, then," Ralof sighed, rummaging through his knapsack and pulling out three bottles of mead. "So I say we just rest until we have to attack Riften."

Einarr agreed but didn't grab one of the bottles. Instead, he slowly got up and pressed a hand to his wound.

"Save me one of those. I'm going down to the lake to wash all this blood off."

"What, the mighty Dragonborn can't handle a little blood under his fingernails?" Ralof teased.

"He's got the right idea," Assa murmured, taking a sip of mead. "I used to be blond before the battle. All the blood in my hair has turned me into a redhead."

Ralof laughed and grabbed a strand. "Actually, it's all dried and brown now. Looks nice on you."

Assa rolled her eyes and shoved him. "Sod off, you milk-drinker. Einarr, let me know if there's any relatively private areas I can wash off in when you get back."

"Will do," he nodded, grabbing his pack and heading toward the lake.

When he reached the lakeshore, he stripped down to his skin and inspected the wound on his side as he gently cleaned it and the rest of his body. He couldn't believe how much grime and dried blood he was covered in, but he was pretty sure the majority of it was his. He had just walked out of the water and was drying off with a towel when he heard a low whistle behind him.

"You know, I never realized it before, but you've got a great ass, Einarr," said a voice he never expected to hear.

"Finverior?" he gasped, turning around.

The Bosmer's amber eyes drifted down to below Einarr's waist and he let out a hum of appreciation. "Well would you look at that. You're a big boy, aren't you?"

Glaring, Einarr wrapped the towel around his waist and restrained the overwhelming urge to punch the wood elf across the jaw. "What the fuck are you doing out here? Nay, better question, _why_ are you here?"

"Everyone in Riften is freaking out because of the battle that happened only a few miles up the road. The esteemed Jarl Maven Black-Briar is panicking and doubled the guard in the city to protect against an impending attack." He scratched his chin and arched a brow at him. "Your sister sent me to ask when you're planning to attack."

"I don't know. I'm only a soldier here; I don't have any command over the troops."

"Then tell your superior officer that you're attacking tonight. She's arranging for the gates to be available to you. You and the Stormcloaks will be able to walk in without any problems."

Einarr stared at him for a moment. "And how did she arrange that?"

Finverior smirked and started to walk away. "Don't worry about it. Be at the gates tonight with the rest of the soldiers. I'd better get back before the guards start patrolling the docks."

Einarr wanted to call him back and insist he tell him what Lassarina had done, but he thought better about it. The sun was already starting to set, and if they were going to attack tonight, they needed to get moving soon. So he quickly dried himself off and threw his armor back on before running back to the fort to inform the captain of this new development.

**oOo**

"I thought you said we'd be able to walk in through the front gates!" Captain Gonnar spat, glaring right at Einarr. "There's two guards standing there."

Einarr frowned and stared at the two guards curiously. Finverior had told him that the city gates would be accessible, so why were there guards stationed there? Had their opportunity to attack passed them by already?

"Einarr, what's going on?" Assa whispered to him.

"I don't know," he growled. "I was told we'd be able to walk right through the gates."

"Wait, what's that?" Ralof spoke, pointing up at the wall. "I thought I saw something move on top of the wall."

Einarr glanced up to the strong wall surrounding Riften, and for a few moments he saw nothing. But then he caught a flash of moonlight bouncing off a polished blade and saw the shadows moving.

_Nay, that's not a shadow, _he thought to himself, recognizing the familiar armor his sister wore.

She didn't move from where she stood on the wall and it was almost impossible to see her, but Einarr knew that she was looking at him and the rest of the soldiers hiding in the trees. Then her hands lit up in a faint golden light and he saw her nod her head to the gates.

"Who in Oblivion is that?" Gonnar asked.

"Those are our eyes on the inside," Einarr replied with a grin. "It's safe to go ahead."

"What about those guards?"

Einarr looked at the guards standing in front of the gates and noticed something odd about them. The entire time that he and the rest of the soldiers had been standing in the trees, they hadn't moved once. They were in the _exact _same position without moving a single muscle. Without thinking, Einarr stepped out from the shadows of the trees and walked right up the road to the gates. When he reached them, he looked up to his sister, shocked at what she had arranged.

The guards hadn't moved because they were no longer alive. They both had daggers buried deep in their gullets and were being held up by knives that were pinning their cuirasses to the wall they were propped against. He never thought his sister would be capable of something like this, but looking up at her, he saw no remorse in her eyes. Her whole face was covered by the shadow of her hood as well as her mask, but he could tell Lassarina felt no regret over this.

"Einarr, is it clear?" Assa voice cut through the silence of the night.

He didn't take his eyes off his sister but answered, "Aye, it's clear."

The Stormcloaks charged out of from the shelter of the trees and joined him at the gates. He glanced over his shoulder when Assa and Ralof appeared at his side to nod at them, and when he looked back to his sister, she was gone.

"Who was that?" Ralof asked him.

"A friend," Einarr answered, moving along when the gates were thrown open.

The rest of the soldiers inside of Riften were completely unprepared for their attack, and chaos erupted. The Stormcloaks hacked away and cut down any enemy that stood in the way, following Captain Gonnar as he shouted at them to make their way to Mistveil Keep. Einarr kept taking on too many opponents at once, which normally wouldn't be a problem for him, but the wound on his side was slowing him down and restricting his movement. He couldn't swing as widely as he was accustomed to without risking popping his stitches. He had just brought down the soldier in front of him and paused to catch his breath when he heard Assa shout.

"Einarr, behind you!"

He turned his head to see a soldier charging at him, his sword raised over his head and ready to come down to strike. Einarr didn't have enough time to react, but before his enemy had the chance to strike him, an arrow hissed through the air and pierced his skull. The man died instantly and fell to the ground. Looking up in the direction he saw the arrow come from, Einarr noticed several dark figures standing on the roofs of the houses around them, all of them wielding bows.

_She's brought the Thieves Guild to this fight, _he realized.

One of the thieves jumped down to the ground beside him and walked over. He realized it was his sister only because she wore her Nightingale armor.

"You're not usually that sloppy in battle," she said to him. "I've been watching you this whole time. Why are you so slow?"

"I got hurt taking Fort Greenwall," he explained, pressing his hand into his still-sore wound. "We don't have a healer, so I had to get stitched up."

"Here, let me take care of that then."

Lassarina's hands lit up in a warm golden light, and she placed one palm gently over his wound. Einarr instantly felt the relief that came with the healing magic and could feel the wound closing up. He let out a sigh and placed a hand on his sister's shoulder, looking into her eyes. He noticed they looked different, but he figured it had to be the darkness making them look odd.

"Thank you; that feels much better," he told her.

"You're not going to find a lot of guards at the keep," she informed him. "Maven's not the only one who can pay people off."

"That's good to know."

"Einarr, are you all right?" Assa asked, running over.

"Aye, I'm fine," he nodded. "My sister healed me."

Assa smiled at Lassarina. "It's good to see you again."

"We'll have time to exchange pleasantries later," Lassarina told her sharply. "You and the rest of the Stormcloaks have a city to take, and my thieves and I have to make sure no innocent people get caught in the battle."

Without another word she turned away and ran over to a house, climbing the beams with ease as she made her way up to the balcony. He watched her for a moment but then turned to Assa when she touched his arm.

"Are you all right to keep fighting?" she asked him.

"Aye, I'm not an old man yet," he chuckled, lifting up his sword and nodding to the marketplace, which was swarming with battling soldiers.

He and Assa ran side by side into the fray, watching each other's backs as they fought their foes. Ralof joined up with them at some point, and the three of them were easily decimating the enemy forces. Their minds synchronized and each of their moves landed with expert precision. Ralof would stun his opponent with his shield before he brought down his battleaxe, and Assa spun around with her twin swords, each move so graceful she appeared to be dancing.

"Assa, what's your count at?" Ralof asked during the fight. "I've got five so far!"

"Ha! Only five?" she teased, striking down another Imperial. "I've got six."

Einarr rolled his eyes at them, a bit disgusted that they were counting how many kills they had. He was just pushing a soldier off the end of his blade when he heard Assa let out a cry of pain. He whirled around to look at her and saw she had her hand pressed to her face, blood seeping out between the fingers of her fur gloves. He was reaching out to her when he heard the familiar hiss of an arrow right before it pierced her shoulder. She screamed in pain and fell to her knees, dropping her weapons and clutching the injury.

"Ralof, cover Assa!" Einarr shouted, his eyes scanning for the archer.

He spotted the bowman standing on top of the roof of the orphanage, already nocking another arrow aimed at Ralof. Einarr was about to call out a warning when a bulky black figure climbed onto the roof behind the soldier and grabbed his arms, forcing the arrow in another direction as it was released. He watched them struggle and fight against each other for a few moments before the thief finally got the upper hand and stabbed his foe in the chest. The body rolled off the roof and the thief pulled off his hood, revealing his red hair. He waved his hand to Einarr, and he shook his head in return.

"Brynjolf," he muttered to himself as he turned to check on Assa.

"It's a through-and-through," Ralof told Einarr. "She got lucky, but we should get her somewhere safe."

Einarr nodded. "Aye, I agree. Here, help me support her."

The two of them helped Assa to her feet and supported her between their bodies as they moved through the dying battle and over to the blacksmith's shop. A thief was already jumping off the roof as they reached it and held out their hands to take her. This male thief wore the traditional Guild leathers, and had the look of an Imperial about him. It took a moment for Einarr to remember his name.

"Rune," he said as it came to him.

"We'll treat her here," Rune nodded to Einarr. "Finverior is already on his way."

"Dragonborn!" Gonnar shouted. "We're storming the keep!"

Einarr turned to look at the captain and saw him leading a group over to Mistveil Keep. Grabbing Ralof's shoulder, he started pulling him over to the captain so they could join them. They cut down any soldier who tried to get in their way and practically kicked down the doors when they stepped inside the jarl's home. It was nice and warm inside, and sitting in her throne, Maven Black-Briar was glowering at them. She had no guards by her side except for two Nord men. One of them was nothing but muscle, a menacing look on his face as he stood between Maven and the Stormcloaks. The other was scrawny and looked absolutely petrified.

"It's over, Maven," Gonnar announced as he walked forward. "The Rift is Ulfric's once more, and you're under arrest for the murder of Laila Law-Giver and her sons, Harrald and Saerlund."

"It's not over!" Maven spat, slamming her fist down on the armrest of her throne. "Maul! Kill them all, I don't care if you have to sacrifice yourself to do it!"

Einarr turned his gaze to Maul and saw the man looked a bit conflicted. He was reaching for his blade and Einarr was getting ready to meet the man in a fight, when they were interrupted by someone walking into the keep.

"Maul, we gave you a deal; you do nothing and you live," Lassarina said as she walked past Einarr.

"Who in Oblivion are you?" Maven shrieked.

"That doesn't matter now. It's over, Maven. Just go quietly."

"Maul, why are you just standing there? Do something!"

Maul turned to Maven and shook his head. "Sorry, Maven, I enjoyed working for you, but I'm not going to die for you."

Einarr watched Maul walk over to his sister, and they shook hands when he reached her.

"Welcome back to the Guild, Maul," Lassarina told him.

"You traitor!" Maven shouted. "I'll have your head for this!"

"You won't be killing anyone where you're going, Black-Briar," Gonnar said as he walked right up to her and slapped some shackles on her wrist. "You are hereby stripped of your position as Jarl of The Rift."

Maven sneered at Gonnar. "And who will run The Rift in my absence? You? Ha! I'm the only one capable of running this hold!"

"Jarl Ulfric sent a courier saying that The Rift will be temporarily run by one Eisa Shadow-Song."

Einarr's eyes widened. "_Eisa_ Shadow_-_Song?"

"Who in Oblivion is that?" Maven demanded.

"That would be me," Lassarina said stepping forward and finally removing her hood and mask.

Einarr gasped when he saw her, mainly because the woman he was looking at wasn't his sister. She spoke like her and smelled like her, but she looked _nothing _like her. Gone was the dark auburn hair, replaced with locks the color of wheat, and her pale skin was now tanned a sun-kissed gold. The pale-blue eyes that proved they were siblings were gone. One eye was now sea-green and the other was milky-white, a long, jagged scar slashing across the lid and continuing down her cheek to her jawline. The woman in front of him was a complete stranger.

"You can take Maven with you," Lassarina, or rather Eisa, told Gonnar. "But I want her husband and daughter to remain here as insurance. I don't want her son Sibbi anywhere near here. He's a menace."

"My husband won't just agree to be your prisoner!" Maven spat. "Tell her, Hemming!"

The scrawny Nord that had been standing beside Maven ducked his head and, after a moment's hesitation, walked over to Lassarina.

"I never said they'd be prisoners, Maven," Lassarina continued. "Hemming is more of a business partner and will be helping me keep the hold in order. I am a very busy person after all."

Maven said every nasty word she knew as Gonnar and his soldiers dragged her out of the keep. Einarr should have followed them, but he was still in shock over his sister. He was desperate to know what exactly she had done to herself, but he had to wait for her to finish speaking with Hemming and Maul.

"Look, I don't know anything about this jarl business," he overheard her saying to Hemming. "I don't even want to hear anyone calling me 'Jarl,' so I'm giving you all the responsibilities, Hemming. In exchange, you'll get all rights to Black-Briar Meadery and will be a friend to the Guild from here on out. Just don't cross me."

"Of course, Eisa," Hemming nodded fervently. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"Good, now make arrangements to have that son of yours moved out of his lavish prison cell and over to The Pale. Daine's already prepared for his arrival."

Hemming bowed and left the hall, moving toward the living quarters. Lassarina dismissed Maul as well, and only when the main hall was clear did she turn to him. He could see that she looked extremely nervous and tense, as if she were waiting for him to lecture her.

"Lassarina . . . what on Nirn did you do to yourself?" he asked her.

"It's not permanent, if that's what you're worried about," she explained. "It's just some very complex magic at work to make me look different and give me the freedom to move around without worrying if a Thalmor is following me."

"A spell? So you can have it undone at any time?"

"Aye."

"Good, because you look more like Ulfric's sister now than mine."

Lassarina let out a little snort and wrinkled her nose. "Aww, Einarr are you jealous?"

He rolled his eyes and shoved her a bit. "So what's with the name? Eisa Shadow-Song?"

She shrugged a shoulder. "Eisa has been my alias for years now when it comes to Thieves Guild business, and I drew inspiration from mother's last name for a fake one."

"And you're all right with being in charge of an entire hold?"

"Wouldn't be much of a change. I pretty much ran The Rift _before _I was given power officially. Who do you think puts gold in the guards' pockets?"

Einarr chuckled and sobered after a moment. "Have you gotten any leads yet?"

His sister's face fell and she looked down to the floor. "Nay, nothing yet. What about you?"

"I had to move out the minute I got to Windhelm. I spent a night there, and then I was marching here the next day. But I left Aela in charge of the Companions until the war is over."

She looked up at him. "Aela? Why not Vilkas?"

"I wouldn't trust Vilkas with the account books the way he is now. The man is a complete mess."

He saw her eye darken and decided to change the subject.

"So . . . is that eye actually blind right now?"

"Nay, I can see just fine out of it. It's all just a ruse, big brother." She took a deep breath and forced a smile. "So you think you'll stay a few days? It'd be nice to spend some time with you."

He smiled sadly at her and wrapped an arm around her as they started to walk out of the keep. "I'll see what I can do."

oOo

Einarr hadn't been able to stay like Lassarina had hoped, since the Stormcloak captain asked him to head back to Windhelm with Assa and Ralof to deliver news of their victory. It was probably for the best anyway, since she was up to her ears in letters and books, searching for any intel on the Thalmor that Maven could have been keeping. It was no secret that Maven Black-Briar had dealings with both the Thalmor and the Empire, and Lassarina was hoping that her relations with them would result in any clues to Faolan and Lyanna.

She was just finishing up reading through another book of accounts and tossed it aside with a heavy sigh. There was absolutely nothing of use in any of them. It had been a week since The Rift was taken back by the Stormcloak army and she'd been searching through the books every single day but had nothing to show for it. Even with Hemming, Karliah and Amelia helping her, they were coming up short.

"Hemming, are you sure this is everything Maven had?" Lassarina asked the man.

Hemming scratched his beard as he thought. "Well, there might be some more things in the manor and in the family cabin. I can have some men go and retrieve them."

"Aye, please see to it."

"Are you crazy, woman?" Amelia demanded from where she sat on the floor surrounded by stacks of books and papers. "We haven't even gone through everything in here and you're asking for more?"

"We can't leave anything unchecked, Amelia," Karliah told her simply, not even looking up from the letters in her hands. "Anything that could help us find Faolan and Lyanna is a blessing at this point."

"Why can't we have the men help us with this too?"

"Because men have short attention spans," Lassarina joked, causing both Amelia and Karliah to chuckle. "Plus you and Brynjolf are already disgustingly sweet when you're in the cistern. If he was here, neither of you would get any work done."

The petite Breton rolled her eyes and went back to her stack of papers. Lassarina smirked a bit and reached for another accounts book. She was about halfway through it when someone knocked on the door.

"Come in," she called out.

The door opened and Vex strolled in with her three-month-old son Lucian in her arms. The boy clearly took after his Nord father Garthar in appearance, but he had his mother's blonde hair and eyes. Lassarina could already tell the boy was going to be a handful when he was older, but for now he was just a sweet little baby who made her ache for her own children.

"I like your new place," Vex told Lassarina. "Much nicer than the Guild bunkhouse."

"Enjoy it while we have it," Lassarina said. "Once this war is over, it's going to whoever Ulfric decides to appoint jarl."

"Well, I came to help with whatever I can. I'm sick of staying at home, and I can always bring Lucian with me to read through documents."

Amelia stood up and held out her arms. "Here give him to me; I need a break." When Vex handed her son over, the Breton started cooing to the small boy, waggling her finger in front of him. "Oh, hello there, little lad. Why don't we take a walk around the keep?"

As she was walking out, Amelia nearly ran into Sapphire.

"Watch it, I'm holding a baby!" she snapped to the tall Nord woman.

Sapphire backed up against the wall, her hand up in surrender as she let Amelia walk by. "Sorry, sheesh."

"Sapphire, you come to help too?" Lassarina asked her.

She shook her head. "Actually, there's someone asking for you at the inn. You might want to go see him right away."

Lassarina arched a brow and looked at Sapphire confused. "Are they asking for me or for Eisa?"

"You. Talen-Jei will point him out for you."

Lassarina let out a heavy sigh and stood up, stretching her body as she started walking out. While she was worried over who was asking for her by her actual name, she was relieved to finally be getting out of that paper-cluttered room. At least she looked different now, so she could scope out who was asking for her before approaching them. She quickly made her way to The Bee and Barb and walked up to Keerava and Talen-Jei at the bar. They were the only other people in Riften outside of the Guild that she trusted with the knowledge that she was still alive and she was making use of the traffic that came through their inn and all the rumors they heard during the day.

"Sapphire said someone was here asking for me?" asked them softly.

Talen-Jei nodded. "He's in the upstairs room."

"Who is it?"

Both Argonians just smiled at her. "Just go up. It's the larger room."

Now she was curious and made her way up the stairs to the large room. As she neared the room, Lassarina saw the door was open a crack and placed her hand on her dagger to be safe. She knocked softly on the wood and gasped when she heard his voice.

"Come in."

She pushed open the door and stared at Vilkas in shock. When he looked up at her, his brow furrowed in confusion and asked with a menacing growl, "Who are you?"

* * *

_Woah! Vilkas is in Riften! All right people, let's have a play-by-play in this relationship war. Lassarina was the one to decide they needed some time apart and left, giving her a lot of the power in the ring, but in an unexpected turn of events, Vilkas has made the first move to seek her out. But he doesn't know she's changed her appearance, so we'll have to see how this plays out._

_Hope you enjoyed the chapter, please **Fave/Follow/Review! **Getting your reviews always makes me smile!_


	13. Chapter 13

_This chapter is NSFW. YAY! The first one of the book! I'll go hide my head in shame now..._

_Hope you enjoy this chapter! This is Book Four of my series! **Full Moon, Walk in the Shadows, and Sovngarde Beckons **are the prequels in that order._

_Please remember to **Fave/Follow/Review! **_

_Musical Inspiration for this chapter: Closer by Nine Inch Nails, 1000 Words from Final Fantasy X-2 _

* * *

******Chapter Thirteen**

******(27********th******** of Rain's Hand, 205 4E)**

Lassarina stood in the doorway, her eyes wide and terrified. It was obvious that Vilkas wouldn't recognize her with the spell that Galathil cast over her, but the spell didn't change her voice. The moment she spoke, he'd know it was her and she had no idea how he was going to react. Though, she did have a pretty good idea.

"Hey, I asked you a question," Vilkas growled. "Do I need to ask it more slowly? Who. Are. You?"

Lassarina opened her mouth to answer, but found she couldn't form any words. Her hands trembled as she glanced over her shoulder at the hall behind her. She could always just leave; he still had no idea who she was and he would simply assume she had just been some stupid girl. She wasn't wearing her guild leathers, so it wouldn't dwell too long with him.

_Aye, I'll walk away and have Galathil remove the spell before I come back, _she decided.

But just as she turned away, Vilkas spoke. "Are you from the Guild?"

Turning her head to him, she nodded stiffly.

"My wife is the Guildmaster; did she send you?"

If she said yes, he'd start asking her questions that would require more than just a nod or a shake of the head, so she shook her head no. He sighed heavily and then shocked her by walking right up to her and placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Look, could you please go find her and make sure she's coming?" he asked her, his eyes dark and desperate. "I . . . I just really need to talk to her."

Gulping a bit, she nodded.

The corner of his lip turned up in a smile. "Thank you. I really appreciate–"

Vilkas's words trailed off and his gray-blue eyes narrowed suspiciously, fixated on something on her neck. Lassarina was already cursing internally, realizing he was staring at the small tattoo she had gotten when they last came to Riften together for Brynjolf and Amelia's wedding. It was a black Shadowmark of protection etched into her skin just below her ear, barely the size of a septim and only visible if she tucked her hair behind her ear. Heart hammering in her chest, she tried avoiding Vilkas's gaze, but he forced her to look at him, grasping her chin firmly in his hand.

He studied her for a moment, before finally his eyes blazed with anger. "Lassarina?"

She yanked her chin out of his grasp and gritted her teeth. "Aye."

"But, how–what in Oblivion did you do to yourself?"

"I used magic to change my appearance," she explained with a shrug. "It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal? Why the fuck did you do this to yourself?"

"Why do you even care?"

Vilkas pulled her into the room roughly and slammed the door shut. "I care because I'm your husband! Were you just going to not tell me it was you?"

Lassarina ran her fingers through her blonde hair, clutching the shortened end in frustration. "Of course I was going to tell you!"

He scoffed and glared at her accusingly. "Really? Because it seemed to me you were getting ready to turn tail and leave like you always do."

"Like I always do? And what is _that _supposed to mean?"

"Just that you always run away, Lassarina. It's always easier for you to just run away."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I was going to come back, you insensitive ass!"

"What, after six months?"

Lassarina gasped at the verbal blow and stared at him, her whole body fuming with anger. She wanted to lash out at him, but part of her was just too tired and just wanted to curl up in her bed in the cistern and just make the rest of the world go away.

"Were you going to get addicted to skooma again while you were at it?" Vilkas continued, pacing back and forth across the room. "Then come back after you'd hit rock bottom."

She fought hard against the tears that were threatening to pour from her eyes. "Nay, I thought I'd drink my troubles away this time around, take a page from your book. Maybe have Vipir or Etienne keep me company. They've always been sweet on me, so at least I could hop into bed with someone I know this time!"

Vilkas spun and gave her a pained glare. "Don't you even fucking joke about that!"

"Why not? You had no issue bringing up the fact that I slept with another man last time I'd gone off the edge! You even accused me of sleeping with Finverior! Sounds like I'm nothing but some loose harlot in your eyes right now, so maybe I should just be one!"

Vilkas snarled and shoved her against the wall behind her. "I will _not _share you with anyone!"

"We're separated, Vilkas! You have no say in the matter!"

He tore off his glove and held his hand up in front of her. "This ring on my finger says otherwise. _You _may have said we're separated, but I never agreed to it. You're _my _wife and you being in a mood doesn't change that fact that you and I are married in the eyes of the gods."

"I'm in a _mood?_"

"Aye, you're like a child throwing a tantrum. That's your real problem. You never fucking grew up. When things get tough, you just cry and try to avoid dealing with it."

Lassarina shoved him back and started moving toward the door.

"See? You're doing it again. When are you going to stop running from your problems, Lassarina?"

She whirled around. "Why are you even here, Vilkas? I thought I made it clear that I needed some time away from you!"

"You've been away for nearly a month. I came because I thought we could sit down and try to talk things out, to try and salvage our marriage!"

"Well, I don't want to talk things out yet!"

"How much more time do you need! We need to fix this for the twins' sake!"

Just hearing Vilkas mention the twins made something inside her snap. Lassarina raised her hand, ready to slap him across the face, but he caught her by the wrist and stopped her before she could do it.

"You don't get to talk about them!" she cried, struggling to pull away from him. "You neglected them for four months! You left them all alone!"

"I know!" he snapped, catching her other wrist as she swung it at him. "I'm going to have to live with that guilt for the rest of my life."

"Then go live with it back in Whiterun while I find them!"

She managed to wrench her wrists out of his grip and pulled open the door. She heard Vilkas step up behind her and slam it shut once more. Without warning he grabbed her wrists again and pinned her against the wood.

"You're not leaving," he growled into her ear before turning her around. "You're _mine._"

Then he lowered his head and slanted his mouth over hers.

There was nothing gentle or loving in this kiss. It was hard and bruising, like he was punishing her for every single time she ran away. For a moment, it felt like he still had his beast blood, giving off the sensation that he was nothing more than an alpha male ready to show his mate her place.

_Cured of the beast blood, yet we still act like animals, _she thought to herself jokingly.

He must have sensed her thoughts had drifted and fisted his hand in her short hair, forcing her head back and baring her neck to him. Vilkas's lips trailed down to the delicate skin, biting down and sucking harshly, effectively marking her plainly for anyone to see. She cried out and desire flared through her, head to toe. Lassarina knew she should be angry, that she should fight back since that was exactly what she would do if she still had the beast blood. So when he came back up to kiss her, she bit down on his lower lip.

He let out a hiss of pain and wiped his now bloody lip with his thumb, glaring at her with his piercing eyes. "That hurt."

"Good," she panted, both infuriated and aroused at the same time.

A cruel smile tugged at Vilkas's lips and he roughly moved her away from where she was still pressed against the door. He pushed her down on the double bed, tearing of his arm guards and pauldrons while staring at her with that predatory gaze. When Lassarina moved to sit up, he moved forward and shoved her back down.

"Stay," he barked harshly.

His hands moved rapidly to untie the leather straps of his armor and Lassarina watched him the entire time, panting softly. She had never seen him act like this in their entire marriage; so aggressive and forceful. He was behaving like a completely different person, one that most women would be terrified of. But not her. Seeing this passion in Vilkas ignited something in Lassarina and she wanted him just as badly as he wanted her in that moment, if the fire in his eyes was any indication.

Now he stood in front of her in his leather pants and linen shirt he wore beneath his armor. A growl rumbled in his throat as he lowered himself onto the bed over her and forced another kiss on her that she greedily returned. Lassarina gasped when his hand grasped the bodice of her tunic and yanked, ripping it right down the center and baring her body to him. Not wanting to be outdone, she ripped Vilkas's shirt down the center as well and took it a step further by gripping his shoulders with her nails.

Between their aggression, they both ripped each other's clothing to shreds, leaving them both naked. They were both fighting for dominance, constantly flipping the other one over, but eventually Vilkas got the upper hand. He had Lassarina pinned down to the bed on her stomach, trapping both her hands in one of his and pressing his hardened length against her, teasing her as he covered her neck with searing open-mouthed kisses interspersed with tiny bites. But he made no move to push himself into her.

"Vilkas," she groaned desperately.

"What do you want?" he asked, kissing her ear and nipping the lobe, causing her whole body to shiver pleasantly.

"Just do it!"

"Beg for it."

"Please, I need you!"

"Say my name."

Vilkas plunged into her depths with one hard thrust just as she screamed his name. He wasn't gentle with this, either. It was hard, rough and fast, their bodies slapping together in a frenzy of passion. It was pain and pleasure mixed together and driving them both mindless with need, desperate to have more of each other. Freeing her wrists from his hold, his hands grasped her hips in a bruising grip as he drew her hips up and back, driving into her with an intensity that she'd never seen in him before. It was like he was a completely different man, and it only made her desire him more. She grabbed a fistful of blanket in each hand and bit down on her lip, trying to keep her cries of pleasure contained. .

Lassarina was close to the edge and could sense that Vilkas was close based on the change in his breathing and groans of pleasure. His hips flexed powerfully behind her as his thrusts became deeper and faster. She whimpered with each stroke, unable to prevent the cries and moans spilling from her lips. She was nearly there.

"Shit," he hissed. Vilkas breathed her name as he reached his climax.

The warmth of his seed spilling inside her swiftly brought Lassarina to her peak so intensely that darkness formed in the edge of her vision. They both collapsed on the bed, Vilkas having the sense to move slightly to the side so his full weight wouldn't be on her. They were breathing heavily, their sweat-slick bodies feeling completely sated and exhausted in that moment. Drawing her into his arms, Vilkas covered them with the fur blanket on the bed and simply held her.

"I thought we were going to talk this out," she said, her eyes struggling to stay open.

Vilkas already had his eyes closed and was beginning to drift off. "Shut up and go to sleep."

Lassarina was way too tired to object.

**oOo**

Lassarina woke up with a startled gasp, her whole body trembling and covered by a cold sweat. For a moment she couldn't remember what awful dream had torn her from a semi-restful sleep, but then images began flashing through her mind: _Elenwen standing over her, her hand squeezing her throat. Elenwen laying burning hot iron on her skin. Elenwen's shadow looming over Faolan and Lyanna, both of whom were crying out for their mother._

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she wiped away the tears that had gathered in her eyes with her wrist and sighed heavily.

"Bad dream?" Vilkas asked her.

Turning her head, she found Vilkas lying on his side next to her looking at her with apprehension in his eyes. After three years of marriage, Lassarina and Vilkas could read each other extremely well, so he knew right away she'd had a nightmare, while she knew that he was agonizing over whether or not she would walk out again.

"Aye," she finally answered. "A really bad one."

He grunted a bit and they both fell silent. The air around them was extremely tense, which was an odd feeling for Lassarina, and she had no idea how to go from here.

"Your eyes are blue again," he whispered softly, breaking the silence. "And your skin isn't as tan."

She glanced down at her arm and saw that he spoke the truth. Her skin had reverted back from the sun-kissed gold Galathil had given her to the even-toned ivory she was born with.

"The spell must be starting to wear off," she sighed, drawing the blanket closer to her naked chest and sitting up.

"What spell?"

"There's a woman living in the Flagon named Galathil. She knows this strange form of magic she calls face-sculpting that can change a person's appearance for a brief period of time. It's like an advanced form of illusion magic that looks and feels real. But it's not permanent and the magic only lasts a few days before it starts to fade. It's usually my eyes that go back to normal first."

Vilkas propped himself up on an arm. "Why didn't you tell me it wasn't permanent?"

She shot him a tired glare. "Because you were being an ass."

"Lassarina, I was so angry I forced myself on you. If you had just explained I wouldn't have done that."

"Nay, it's fine. I think" -she let out a short laugh- "I think we both needed that."

The corner of his lip twitched and he sat up, scooting closer and laying a kiss on her bare shoulder. "Still, I didn't want to be so rough with you."

"I didn't mind it, Vilkas," she admitted. "It was different, but I didn't mind it."

He looked at her for a moment, pushing stray blonde hairs away from her face. "Well, now that we got all that anger out of our systems, maybe we could talk?"

"Aye, I guess we should."

There was another long pause of silence as they tried to figure out which one of them should start. Lassarina clearly didn't want to, so she nodded at Vilkas to go ahead.

"Lassarina, I understand why you're angry at me," he began. "I'm angry at myself too. We know now that you weren't dead, but even if you had been, that wasn't any excuse to neglect the twins the way I did."

"You were all they had left," she interrupted him. "I don't care how much you were grieving for me; you should have been there for them. They needed you."

"You don't know what it was like. They were always coming to me, looking at me with _your eyes_, asking where you were. I kept dreading the day that I'd have to tell them you were dead."

"They're still too young to understand death. Faolan and Lyanna would have long forgotten about me when that time came."

He let out a short, bitter laugh. "Aye, that's a reassuring thought, our children never even remembering what you looked like."

"I never knew my father's face before I went to Sovngarde. Not knowing it made the knowledge that he was dead easier to bear, Vilkas. I wouldn't have wanted Faolan and Lyanna to be sad." Lassarina frowned when she remembered something he said. "You said they were looking at you with my eyes, and the night I left, you mentioned something like that."

Vilkas's eyes darkened, and he quickly looked down to avoid her gaze. "It was . . . difficult to look at them. They both had your eyes and Lyanna . . . she looked just like you. For a while there, I felt like they were nothing more than a constant reminder of you. I kept thinking how it would have been easier if they weren't around."

Lassarina stiffened and looked at her husband, horrified. Part of her really couldn't believe what she was hearing, that the father of her children couldn't stand to look at them. Vilkas was admitting that his life could have been easier if the twins hadn't been around.

"How can you say that?" she asked him, her voice a sad whisper. "Those are your children!"

Vilkas looked up at her and she saw his eyes shone with unshed tears. "You don't think I already feel guilty enough for having those thoughts? I'm completely _disgusted _with myself, Lassarina! I'm going to be carrying around this guilt for the rest of my life. Every time I think about or look at Faolan and Lyanna, I'm going to feel like a weak, pathetic man! No amount of effort or love I can give them from here on out will ever be enough to cleanse me of it."

"_If _we get them back . . ."

Lassarina gasped when he roughly grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. "Don't you even think that way."

"How can I not? We don't even know if they're in Skyrim anymore, Vilkas! The Thalmor could have just as easily taken them into Cyrodiil! The Imperials control the border, after all!"

"And what good would potential heirs to Windhelm be in Cyrodiil? It wouldn't make sense for them to be taken there!"

"Oh gods, you don't know," she sobbed suddenly.

"Know what?"

"Fucking Ulfric got Galmar's daughter pregnant! They're keeping it a secret for now, but if the Thalmor ever find out, they'll know Faolan and Lyanna are worthless and will more than likely kill them!"

Vilkas paled a little bit at her news, but he drew her into his arms to try and comfort her. Lassarina was still irritated with him, so she tried to pull away, only to have his grip tighten.

"Vilkas, let me go," she ordered him through her tears.

"Nay," he replied stubbornly. "Stop trying to get away from me. I'm fucking tired of you always running away."

"I don't always–"

"Nay, you do! You ran when you thought you strained my relationship with Farkas, you ran when you had the miscarriage, and now you're trying to run again. You just packed up and left to Riften without a second thought!"

"Vilkas–"

"Why? Why do you always run?"

"Because running is easier!" she snapped, finally managing to shove him aside. Climbing off the bed she glared at him, not even caring that she was completely naked, and continued her angry tirade. "I don't know how to deal with problems, Vilkas! I never fucking learned! I grew up in Honorhall, for Talos sake! When that evil bitch Grelod was coming for you, you either ran or you took the savage beating she had in store for you! I'd run somewhere safe, which was always Brynjolf! He'd protect me from her and make all my troubles go away because he was the closest thing to family I had left!

"But then I was a whole country away and couldn't run to him to protect me when my adopted father and brothers came looking for me! I had to run to the forest to delay them raping me! Then I killed Trebon's son and had to run away so I could stay alive! I had planned on running back to Riften, but you and Farkas came along and prevented that! You had to make me fall in love with you!"

He rose from the bed too and glowered down at her. "What, are you saying you regret this? You regret being with me?"

"Nay, I never said that!"

"Really? Because it's sounding like it!"

"Stop putting words in my mouth! You know I love you! If I didn't, I would have never married you!"

"If you really loved me, you wouldn't have run away the way you did a month ago! Do you know what it's like to have someone I care about choose to leave me? You of all people should know how badly it hurts! It's like I'm being abandoned, Lassarina, like you don't care enough about me to stay!"

"Vilkas, it's because of how much I love you that I left!" she shouted. "If I had stayed, I wouldn't have been able to look at you, to speak to you! I needed some time to get my anger toward you under control before I did something stupid!"

"Stupider than saying we should separate?"

"Temporarily! I said we needed some time apart! I never intended to leave you permanently! I only needed some time away to figure things out!" She drew in a stuttered breath, feeling her chest tightening painfully. "I regretted walking out the moment I was outside the city! I just" -gasp- "I couldn't–"

Lassarina broke off, struggling to breathe. But her body wasn't cooperating and she couldn't manage anything other than short, panicked gasps. She felt Vilkas's arms wrap around her and pull her to the bed, forcing her to sit down.

"Easy," he whispered soothingly into her ear. "Lassarina, relax. Just calm down and focus on taking deep breaths. You're all right, you're safe here, with me."

Even if she was angry with him, her body, mind and heart couldn't resist but be soothed by the man she loved. Vilkas knew just how to calm her down. The way his voice softened and rumbled huskily in her ear, coupled with the way he stroked her hair never failed to get her under control once again. Once she managed to take in deep, steady breaths, Vilkas rested his chin on the top of her head and sighed heavily.

"Is this how it's going to be from now on?" he asked sadly. "The two of us constantly fighting and screaming at each other?"

"We've hit a rough patch, Vilkas," she murmured. "Every marriage hits rough patches and we just need time to heal. I mean, be realistic, it's going to take more than one talk and amazing sex to fix this."

She felt Vilkas's shoulders shake with laughter. "Amazing, huh?"

Lassarina chuckled lightly and shook her head, dislodging his chin in the process. "Don't let it go to your head."

His lips touched her temple and she pulled back to look at him. "So what do we do now?"

"I don't know," she admitted with a shrug.

"What _do _you know?"

"I know that I still love you, Vilkas, and I don't want to live without you. I know I want our old lives back, where we were just husband and wife with two beautiful, happy children."

"I want that too, love. I guess we'll just have to take it a day at a time and focus on finding Faolan and Lyanna. You'll have to show me where we need to start looking."

She looked at him in surprise. "You're going to help?"

"Why wouldn't I? They're my damned kids too, Lassarina, and despite the four months where I ignored them, I still love them and want them back just as much as you do."

"I'll admit, I would love to have you here helping me. It's been hard without someone there to support me. Finn and Brynjolf try, but they don't know how to keep me sane and calm the way you do. The only really helpful thing Finn has done is give me Sleeping Tree Sap so I can sleep without nightmares."

"Finverior is here?"

"Aye, and here's the really shocking news, the man got married to that mage Onmund from Winterhold."

"Did the impossible happen? Or did I hear you incorrectly?"

"Nay, he's actually married. I actually feel bad because he's using time he should be spending with his husband helping me look for the twins."

Vilkas shrugged. "Well, he does care about them just as much as everyone else in Jorrvaskr. Have you gotten any leads to their location?"

She shook her head. "I have a map of about twenty Thalmor bases and no clue on which ones to start with. I sent out Vipir, Rune, Thrynn, and Cynric to scout out a couple of them about two weeks ago but haven't heard anything back yet."

"Something will turn up; you just have to keep believing that."

Lassarina nodded sadly and leaned in close when he lowered his head to kiss her. This kiss was much gentler than the one that caused them to tear each other's clothes apart. She could feel his regret and his love for her in it. He didn't have to say anything for her to know that he was sorry for everything, just like he could sense that she was sorry for running away . . . again. It gave her hope that maybe everything will be all right.

**oOo**

Two days later, Vipir returned to the cistern after scouting Falkreath Hold. When he asked to see Lassarina and she saw his face, she felt a bit anxious for his news and needed Vilkas there for emotional support. The Nord thief looked a bit nervous and panicked, but there was a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

"What is it?" she asked him desperately. "Did you find anything suspicious at the bases?"

"Nay."

Her heart sank and Vilkas wrapped an arm around her.

"But when I was riding back from Falkreath, I found a manor in the middle of the forest," he reported. "The place was enormous and I couldn't resist sneaking over to try and steal something."

Lassarina glared at him. "Why in Oblivion would I care about some manor in the forest, Vipir?"

"Because, the manor was filled with Thalmor soldiers. I couldn't get in and risk them seeing me, but I did see something interesting on the balcony."

"What?"

"I saw an Imperial woman playing with your son," Vipir told her with a smile. "I found your kids, Guildmaster."

Lassarina was so happy, she kissed the man right in front of her husband.

* * *

_See? Everyone happy now? They've made-up, but keep in mind, they're still in that awkward stage where they agree to be together again, but still hold some of the bitterness inside. Marriages take work people. But yay! Vipir brought back the best news EVER!_

_Hope you enjoyed the chapter, please **Fave/Follow/Review! **Getting your reviews always makes me smile!_


End file.
